


Kriegspiel

by leo_minor



Category: Kriegspiel - Fandom, The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: A Link Between Worlds
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - New Cycle, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Canon-Typical Violence, Complete, Gen, Manipulation, Multi, Mute Link (Legend of Zelda), Original Character(s), Roleswap, Saving the World, Swordfighting, Threats of Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-01
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2020-06-02 07:57:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 26
Words: 147,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19437205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leo_minor/pseuds/leo_minor
Summary: kriegspiel,/ˈkriːɡspiːl/ (noun) : an unorthodox chess game in which the players only know for certain the moves of their own pieces.The tales of Power, Courage and Wisdom have been written in history. Their roles are engraved in stone. However, humans have this ineffable attachment to their free will, and sometimes act in unexpected ways. One of three chess pieces is sent on a journey across his land to another, and finds things aren't as prophesied :Perhaps the stone has begun to crumble.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story is a new cycle of the Triforce, involving reincarnations of all characters, so it was difficult affiliating it a game in particular. In any case, I hope you enjoy it.
> 
> Updates will be as regular as possible !

The world, according to Link, would be a better place, were it quiet.

Link himself has always been silent, not by choice but by biological nature, but he fancies that If he did have a voice to speak with, he would use it as little as possible. He reckons this is a philosophy that everyone should apply to their lives, to better everyone else’s, and their own. Speaking is dull, and for children. It is also for tyrants, murderers and thieves.

Link works on a farm, and on his farm no words are spoken. He has a boss, who spills too many, but he is rarely there during the day. It is mostly him, and the animals, which is the way he likes it best. If he could, he would live completely alone, and as far from society as he possibly could. He cannot. No one has taught him how to hunt, nor fish – although he is, according to the villagers, a natural at it – all he knows is how to herd, and milk, and groom. He does that with the ease of a boy who has done it for years, because he has, and that’s just the way he likes it.

The biggest problem in his life is a profoundly pathetic one that simply won’t leave him be – Link’s problem is that people like him. They like his shy smile and the way he wrings his hands when he can’t quite find the word he’s looking for, and they like his efficiency. Ironically, they appreciate his silence most. Link wishes he could appreciate someone’s silence, but there simply is no one as good at it as he is.

People like each other for reasons as meaningless as the ones that push them to mumble and chatter, he thinks, and surely there is a sour look on his face as he walks down the village’s clumsily cobbled streets, carrying the product of his daily labour. No one notices, because he’s Link, and he’s kind and always willing to help. In fact, his sarcasm runs deep, and his thoughts are unpleasant, but Link loves his fellow villagers more than he lets on. If he were to spend more time with them, and less with animals, who could never contradict his morose view of life, he might brighten up a little. He refuses to, because he is dangerously stubborn. This will be, throughout his life, alternatively a quality and a flaw.

“Hello, Link !” a little girl calls from her doorstep, giving him a wave. Her name is Rine. Link likes Rine; she’s clever for her age, and knows how to use words. She wants to be a writer, and move to the town around Hyrule Castle to start her own little workshop. Link told her he’d make her a desk, if she’d like, something to remember him by. She told him she could never forget him anyway.

He can’t wave to her, hands busy carrying the day’s loot, so he just grins. She grins back, and doesn’t add a word. What a respectable little kid.

“Hey, it’s Link ! Comin’ through hot with today’s milk, huh ?”

“Ah ! Good afternoon, Link !”

“If it isn’t our most outstanding young man ! What have you got for us today, say ?”

“Have you had a safe trip through the forest, Link ? My husband said there were wolf sightings…”

You’d think his cheeks would start aching, with all the grinning he was doing.

He still preferred it, he had to admit, to all the times he had to hang his head low and wipe his face clean of whatever emotion he was feeling. Those times the bags on his back felt heavier, looming, and threatening to fall. Everyone couldn’t like him, and everyone couldn’t hold their tongues.

“Hey, kid ! Kid !”

He keeps walking and stared intensely at his sandals, wondering if he could theoretically make a run for it with the weight on his shoulders. When theory said no, practice often agreed.

“Hello ! Say it back !”

He swallows.

“I said : say it back, you bastard ! Wanna look me in the eye ?! Hey, I’m talkin’ to you –“

A pebble hits his head, making a soft thud against his hair. He breathes in and walks a little faster, until the laughing and the hooting are far enough behind him for him to relax. Theoretically, he could take them. In practice, he had, once. One of them still had a nice scar to show for it. He just didn’t want to start again, because when he did, stopping wasn’t so easy. It had something to do with the glowing tattoo on his arm.

That particular detail had appeared unexpectedly on the night of his twelfth birthday, and was still perfectly shaped, like it had grown with him. It glowed in the dark, and no amount of ferocious scrubbing had gotten rid of it. He had once tried to cut it right off, in a moment of folly, but the ink was embedded deep in his skin and refused to leave. It is in the shape of a triangle, and he knows just enough about Hylian history to know two things :

Its name is the Triforce.

It’s very bad news.

So he has sown a sleeve onto his tunic. It’s made of pieces of his old clothes that he’s ripped and threaded appropriately. Unfortunately, it sticks out considerably – he refuses to sew a sleeve on the other side of the shirt, making it look lopsided. So far he has evaded every question about it with this or that lie. He plans on keeping it up, because he knows the stories from what little he can read and all the tales that are repeated religiously in every Hylian village, and they scare him. The part of his tattoo that glows is the bottom right triangle. It symbolises courage, sacrifice and integrity. He doesn’t particularly want anything to do with any of these nouns, at this point in his life. He just wants quiet. Peace and quiet.

However, as the Legends have told, the Hero rarely has his way.

The candles are hung high in orb-shaped lanterns all around the village. It has always been a tradition for the villagers to supper together under this gentle glow, and thank the Goddesses for bringing peace to the land. Today, Rine’s mother has made enough mushroom soup to feed a whole army. Its peppery smell rouses the little girl from her nap, and she sits up to find that the sun has already set – she is late, very late !

“Come get yourself a bowl, Ri,” Laine tells her when she sees her awake, tying the laces on her sandals. She’s a young woman still fresh and happily married. She’s tied her red hair into a long braid, to keep it out of her cooking. She loves her little girl, but sometimes she worries. Rine seems to be taking after Link. He is a charming young man, always willing to lend a hand, but Laine doesn’t want to see her child lock herself away into isolation like he does. She hasn’t yet interfered with their friendship, but she might.

“I have to go get Link !” Rine tells her, straightening out her tunic. “You know he never remembers to come on time !”

Laine wonders if the problem lies with memory, or with willingness.

“Be quick about it, then,” she tells her daughter, but she’s already out the door and running up the street. Link lives in a house at the edge of the village, just close enough to the other houses to avoid it seeming abnormal. Rine doesn’t think anything of it, but she knows the gossip can be terrible, and no one wants to attract any of that. She also knows, although she’s not sure why, that Link spends a lot of his life doing his best not to stick out. She laughs as she jogs up the hill.

“It’s because you’re just not _normal_ ,” she tells him, although he isn’t there yet. She doesn’t mean it in a bad way. Link isn’t like the others, no matter how hard he tries to blend in. That is, of course, why she looks up to him.

She knocks on his door and hides behind its hinges, holding her breath.

Link comes out moments later, and looks left, then right, with practiced slowness. His hands rise, and his eyes narrow. He looks sly. “ _Rine… I can smell you !_ ”

She watches his signing from the crack between the door and the wall, stifling her laughter.

“ _You smell of…mushroom soup !”_ he signs, closes the door with a dramatic, swift kick. She dissolves in giggles and jumps onto his back when he crouches in front of her.

“How did you guess ?”

He doesn’t answer, because he can’t; his hands are busy holding her ankles in place to stop her from falling. She hums a pretty tune on the way back to her mother’s. Link is probably magical – that’s why he’s so good at guessing what’s for dinner, and everything else.

When she suggests this to him, he nearly trips, and has to catch himself on the wall of the nearest house. She laughs merrily and forgets all about it. It’ll be on his mind for the next five hours.

When the candle lights come into view and the long, buffet tables are only around the corner, Link lets her down. She climbs off his back and takes his hand, dragging him directly to the kitchen.

“Two bowls !” she cries, making the gesture with her fingers. Her mother looks up, bemused, at her bright little smile and at her blond companion.

“ _Please,_ ” Link adds, greeting her with his usual smile.

“Of course ! Many mouths to feed ! May the Goddesses bless you !”

“May the Goddess bless you too, mum !” Rine chirps, and takes Link’s free hand with hers. She doesn’t notice the absence of Link’s blessing. She doesn’t know he’s hated the Goddesses since he was twelve. He’s been very good at hiding it. She seats them at the middle table, opposite her father and the portly old shopkeeper, both of whom rise to shake Link’s hand.

“If it isn’t my little princess’ personal escort,” Rine’s father jokes, ruffling her hair affectionately. Link smiles and gives a mock little bow, for her sake. He isn’t that hungry tonight. “Sit ! Sit yourself down ! Big news, you see – big big news straight from Hyrule Castle !”

“Rumours,” the shopkeeper scoffs, waving a fat hand across the table. “Nothing but rumours ! Trust only what you see, my friend, no what others supposedly saw !”

Rine’s father rolls his eyes and leans in, lowering his voice. “The _big news_ is that there’s a legion of royal guards going around the villages closest to the capital. I have a friend, who lives south, and he said that they’re looking for a young man in particular. Can’t recall the name – in any case, they’re bound to come over here looking soon, too ! To send the knights, must be important business. I hope it ain’t a criminal they’re hunting…”

“Ain’t no criminal !” cuts a voice. They all look over and finds it belongs to the village’s eldest, a thin, worn woman with a bob of silver hair. She weaves fresh flowers into it every morning. Tonight, she wears lilies, and an air of importance that draws the table’s attention to her entirely. “I’m tellin’ you, so listen well – they’re out here lookin’ for the Knight.”

She leaves it at that.

“…the night ?” the shopkeeper repeats, and breaks into a burst of condescending laughter, which Rine’s father joins in on. Rine herself is bouncing in his seat, banging her spoon against the tabletop.

“You hear that, Link ? We’re gonna get to see the Queen’s guards !!!”

He hears her only very faintly, because the sound of his heart thumping against his ribs has filled his ears entirely. He excuses himself from the table, and doesn’t have the energy to turn back when she calls his name, so quietly, like she knows. He runs home in a frenzy, and goes as far as to push his wardrobe against the door. Paranoia is biting into him unsparingly. There’s no reason for it to be him, and there’s no way they could _know_ , but the clench in his gut has rarely been wrong.

If they do come knocking on his door, he maybe he could cut his way through. He doesn’t have a sword, but he has a few knives, a shovel here and there. These are trained knights, but brute force and surprise might surpass training… _What is wrong with me ?_ he asks himself, and stops plotting the murder of strangers. This is ridiculous. This is why he wanted to stay away from all this shady business, the Legend and the Goddesses and everything else affiliated with the Triforce. He wonders if the Heroes who came before him were as terrified, or if they knew of their fate. Did someone knock on their door one morning and ask them to save the world ? How could they say yes ?

He doesn’t eat, and he sleeps late, in a feverish sickness. He has nightmares. He wakes up on the floor with a blood on his sleeve and under his nail to a loud knock on the door. The sound nearly makes him faint.

His nightly plans return to him, and he briefly wonders if his body will go forth with them without his consent. That would be a rather funny sight. The thought calms him, and he keeps is going as he pushes his wardrobe back into place and opens his front door.

The sight of Rine’s father causes a second dizzy spell.

“Link, my boy, you don’t look so fresh,” the man tells him, clapping him on the back warmly. He’s recently shaved, and has a cut on his chin. “Sorry to get you up so early, but, y’see, the royal guards…they’re here, and they want us to call a village meeting. Rine’s still asleep, so I thought I’d come…fetch you, ‘n all that.”

_Ah._

“Hey, don’t faint on me !” he exclaims, and catches Link when he starts to fall backwards. Link wishes he’d let him crack his skull and die. Maybe then they would have gone and found a new Hero to brainwash. “C’mon, let’s be off – can’t keep the fellas from the capital waiting too long.”

Of course. That would just be disrespectful.

They’re, ah… very green.

It has always been the colour of Hylian knighthood, but the tones looked much better in the old calligraphy illustrations than they did worn. The legion of royal guards looked like they’d been carefully rolled down a grassy slope. Link finds his worries soothed by how inoffensive they look. Some of the recruits are no more than fourteen, acne and moustache attempts and all. He unclenches his fists and goes to sit with the others.

One of the older looking knights, who has a dark green cape to go with his light green tunic and his grass-green boots (Link needs to keep himself in check, for mocking the royal guards isn’t the best way to go unnoticed) walks onto a small, wooden stage. The paint looks polished, shiny and new albeit mud-splattered. Did they carry it around in each village they visited…?

“Ahem,” he begins, and at least twenty pairs of eyes roll. No one likes being talked down to pretentiously by the posh. Unfortunately, the posh have a dozen swords. “We visit you humbly in the name of Queen Zelda of Hyrule.” He pulls out a few notes from the folds in his cape and looks over them briefly. “In an effort to keep the population safe, and recruit newer, more performant forces to protect the kingdom, her Highness has sent us looking for any sign of magic in any individual above the age of twelve.”

He pauses to turn his paper over, skim-reads it, and nods to himself. He already sounds tired of the task, and his tone holds neither reassurance nor energy. He sounds washed out, like propaganda often is. “But DO NOT FEAR ! This is not a witch hunt. We promise you and your family both the certainty you will return home to them, and a sum of three thousand rupees for your cooperation – plus salary if you prove of use to us.” There’s an envious mumble arising from the crowd, so he hurries on : “Additionally, any new information regarding the Triforce will be rewarded : sightings, strange behaviour, or anything of the kind. The sooner it is completed the quicker the Queen and her ministers can work to make Hyrule a better place to live. Thank you.”

Link doesn’t dare check on the state of the mark on his shoulder, but he can guess that the scratching he did in his sleep wasn’t enough to conceal it. The knights are getting into smaller groups, and already villagers are queuing up, cooking up their own personal sighting of this or that form of magic to win themselves some income. Would it be alright to leave, at this point ?

He’ll have no chance if he doesn’t try, he reasons, and turns his back on the group. If he manages to make it past the first few houses, he might be able to duck behind them and make his way home through the forest, wh-

“Hey, you ! Boy !”

He turns, and with insolence in his eyes, points to himself.

“Yeah,” one of the guards shout back. “Come here !”

He doesn’t move an inch.

“Where do you think you’re going ?” he asks, and the impatience in his voice is a red flag. Link dials the impertinence down a little.

“ _I don’t know anything,”_ he signs. It’s his first mistake.

The guard turns to one of his colleagues and whispers something. They both give him a long stare, and look at each other again.

“What’s your name, kid ?” one of them calls. Link, frozen, doesn’t answer. Rine, who has woken up and is stretching on her doorstep, is happy to give her help, unwanted for the first time.

“His name is Link !” she tells them kindly. “He can’t tell you, because he’s mute. He’s my friend !”

Link feels an overwhelming wave of hate crash over him, not for her but for himself - his second mistake is implicating Rine. The guard who called for him first nods firmly. He can feel their gazes on his shoulder.

“Little girl,” the guard calls, kneeling. She’s happy to run up to him and reaches to touch his sword. He watches her patiently. “Could you ask your friend to roll up his sleeve ? If he needs help, do it yourself, OK ? It looks like he’s injured.”

Rine jumps up and nods crazily. “Of course, mister knight ! Anything to help Link !”

Link watches her run up to his side, and suddenly feels very sick.

“Link, lemme see your arm.”

He tries to fend her away weakly, waving an arm to get her out of the way, but she’s determined. “ _Rine, please, stop,_ ” he moans silently, but she won’t take the time to read his lips today. She wants her hands on his sleeve, and at last he gives up. He’s done for, anyway. She tugs it up and rolls it over his shoulder. He barely hears her gasp.

On his skin, untouched, shines the Triforce.

This is his third mistake : he should have cut his fucking arm off when he had the chance.

Rine runs away when the guards start to walk towards him, and he wants to think it’s because she’s surprised, shell-shocked, worried by the swordsmen charging upon him, and not because she’s scared of him. He doesn’t turn around to check. Instead he holds his ground and throws his first punch. He manages to knock six of them out before the remaining four hurl themselves at him, holding him down on his stomach to tie his hands.

“We had a goddamn parade ready for you, you stupid fuck,” one of them spits in his ear, and he feels a jabbing kick hit his back.

“ _Fuck you,_ ” he mouths, and even though no one will hear him, it brings him petty satisfaction. They hurl him up onto his feet, and he takes the opportunity to spit in their faces with a victorious grin. This earns him a humbling slap, and he decides he’s done being rebellious. Temporarily. Then, when they think he’ll behave and let their guard down, he’ll-

“Walk !” one of the young recruits barks. Link thinks he could break his arm without trying. They nearly drag him down to their horses – if they have any respect for the holder of the Triforce of Courage, they’re hiding it skilfully. Link looks at the floor and the villagers look at Link, but no one says a word. _What a mess._

They ask him if he’s got anyone to say goodbye to. He turns to search the crowd for Rine, but she’s nowhere to be found (she’s crying, you see, hidden behind her mother’s stove between the pots and the pans and the dust, because there’s a child’s instinct within her that knows that her actions have cost the young man she looked up to as a brother, and she doesn’t want to see him leave, dragged away by her own hand), so he shakes his head. No one else is worth half of her. He hopes they won’t crush her down.

Thus, the Hero is thrown onto a horse and brought to Hyrule Castle, not in a parade but in chains. This one is an introduction historians will be quick to forget, for it is always more glorious to show a chivalrous young man ready to sacrifice himself without a second thought than a human with emotions, fears and doubts. The guards stare at him, sometimes, and his muddy face, and wonder how the hell he could be the one chosen by the Goddesses to protect the land. Those who were hit remember the punches; the others remember the Legends. He is wordless. He is named Link, the missing connection between God and Man. And he bears the Triforce on his right shoulder. By birth, he outranks them. For this, and for existing, he receives a few more slaps.

Ah, he thinks – this time there is truly no way out of it. Perhaps he could flat-out refuse; what would happen next ? Would he be royally begged to do his damn job ? Would the Queen thank him politely for his time, and let him go ? Or – and this, this is fine stuff that fuels his anger when he feels it withering, too tired to keep the fire ablaze – will they torture him until he bends to their will ? These many questions occupy him the seven days and seven nights it takes the royal guard to get him to Hyrule Caste, where he will be dropped on the Queen’s doorstep wrapped up like a birthday present.

 _C’est la vie_ , he thinks, and finds himself smiling. Perhaps the blood than ran through his veins was never suited for a farmer’s life. Calmly, he stares up at the tall, golden gates of Hyrule’s capital and wonders which Goddess he could suitably curse for turning his life upside down in one day.

Farore. Today, it would be Farore.


	2. Chapter 2

Farore towers over him imperiously.

The statue of the Three closely resembles the stained-glass paintings in the few manuscripts retracing the history of the Legend. The Three are cool, androgynous figures, with thin waists and thin fingers. Their eyes are empty. Farore leans off the crystal base, curving forward with artistic delicacy. Her hands, reaching out, almost brush against Link’s face.

He has decided already that he hates the capital, because it stands as a fanatic testimony of his doom. The Triforce has been carved, printed and painted on every visible surface – it sits on the cobblestones like a small stamp, on the crimson flags at each street corner, insolently bright. The town’s life seems to revolve around its myth. Following the guards’ horseback route, he has ridden past four churches.

His ego projects infinite boredom on his face, and his expression drives his escort to blasphemous grumbles at times. He’s let his eyes fall half closed, lips curled downwards in some sort of disdainful moue, but a closer inspection would reveal his irises darting left, right, and left again at every opportunity. The capital is like nothing he’s ever seen before, and he’s trying his best to take it all in at once. The buildings are tall and clean and freshly painted. There are glass statues, benches and trinkets on every street. Everything seems to be shining in the corner of your eye. Rine, no doubt, would be taken by its beauty – but just like Link, she’d soon feel smothered by its lack of authenticity.

She wouldn’t say it like that, of course. Later in life, when she would sit and begin potting her first novel, it might come to mind, but the word she would use now would be “liveliness.” There are people in Hyrule Castle’s town, but they are all clean and white and crisp. The horse Link has been sat on walks past an alley, where a market is rustling and hustling, and he leans back to peek into it, swaying with his stead’s neighing. The people shout and shove, but there’s a calmness, a general politeness about it which shouts imposed habits and sharp rules. Link, who has lived in a village than ran itself all his life, has never wondered about the rulers of Hyrule, but now, he asks himself : what sort of people are they ? What are their plans for their people ?

And in his new, chained position : what will be _my_ role, within it all ?

Right now, his explicit instructions are to sit tight and shut up. This is no grand task, since his hands are tied behind his back. The most movement he can accomplish, balancing himself on his saddle with his legs as sole support, is leaning back and forward a little. When he does, he can catch mumbles from the guards who ride amongst him.

“If I were you, I’d take the next left.” One of the eldest knights gives his friend a long, hardened gaze. He looks grim at best.

“We’re right on course, Hal,” his companion replies.

“I knows, I knows. But, y’see, it might do us all good if we used the, ah, side entrance, rather than the main one.”

This time his companion looks away from the road to throw him a glance. The knight throws a thumb over his shoulder and gestures at Link.

“He’s filthy, and a brute,” he continues. Link feels offended, yet faintly pleased. “The Legend is a big deal for everyone in this town. You know there’ll be people waiting outside the gates. Crowds if we’re lucky – the entire village if we ain’t. Rumours travel faster than horses.”

His friend nods him onwards.

“We don’t want our people seein’ this kid like this. We can’t let ‘em know he’s the Hero. It’ll be bad for morale, and that means bad for the kingdom – by extension, bad for us and our men. D’you follow ?”

“We could pass ‘im off as some criminal,” the knight suggests. “I dunno, say we’re bringin’ him in for trial.”

“Sure.” It sounds more like a bite than a word. “Sure, that’ll solve the issue. It’s not like they’ll see his face when we ride by, and remember it when we introduce him, aye. Suggestin’ the Hero is a thief or a killer is a brilliant idea.”

The knight tells him, with one clear gesture, to fuck off, but raises a hand and points it left. The legion takes the next turn. Link wonders what’s worse : being stared at by a sea of religious fanatics or being hoarded off to the darker paths, unworthy of even their gazes. He decides it’s _still_ the sea of religious fanatics, and that he has dodged one hell of a bullet. For now.

Just more time to plot his escape.

“My Queen, it appears our men have returned.”

With the gentle wave of her hand, the maid is dismissed, her braiding unfinished. She spins her seat around, half of her hair still curling gently down her back, and smiles.

“So I’ve heard.”

“It seems, Your Highness, that they have found whom we were looking for.”

Zelda places a hand on top of her dress, and feels her heart thump through it. She can’t quite place it; is it excitement, or anticipation ? Whichever one has claimed her makes her jump to her feet, bare soles making no noise on the carpet as she approaches her ministers.

“Are… Are you quite sure ?” It is her gentle, diplomatic way of yelling something along the lines of Are You Serious ? Is The Hero Really Here At Last ? When Will He Arrive, When Can I Meet Him ? It isn’t her place, but she feels a like dancing. At least spinning a little. It puts a slight bounce in her step.

The tall, bearded man standing by the window turns to her and nods gravely. He has a military, square-shouldered quality to him : he is, of course, her War Minister. “Indeed. I believe it is them, arriving in the courtyard. You should come and have a look for yourself, Your Highness.”

She does. Escorted by the elder politicians, she leans out of the window and peers into the courtyard.

The escort has, indeed, come home; they’re steering their horses into formation in the courtyard, chatter and neighs assisting the process. The doesn’t care much for them – they are at best an assortment of brutes, with inappropriate tastes and jests. What she’s looking for, pressing herself against the glass, is the man she has been destined to meet since the very day of her birth. Curiosity consumes her as she searches the crowd – will he be older than she ? A solid man in his late twenties ? Or perhaps she should be looking for a teenager, lanky and scared. The Legend never specified if all the Triforce holders were to be the same age; only a few years separated her and the second holder, locked inside his quarters, but it might simply be a coincidence !

“Where is he ?” she whispers, squinting. “Are you sure that he’s with him ? And – Ah ! Is there any reason they came in through the East side, instead of the main gates ?” Surely, it wasn’t a confession of failure. Surely, it had been a mere precaution. Right…?

The round, old man standing behind her gives a grumble. “It’s… because of the Hero, you see. They deemed it better for, ah, the positive image of our kingdom to take him in unseen.”

“Why so ?”

The man gives an uncomfortable cough, and leans in. His pudgy fingers points out a face in the crowd. “Over there, your Highness. That’s him.”

The young man she finds herself looking at is no older than twenty. She understands immediately why she didn’t see him at first; the child in her, fed bedtime stories of heroics and reincarnation, had expected him to have some grandiose in him, some distinguishable feature of nobility, courage or presence. This is not the case. The Hero has dirty blond hair, and wears the attire of a forest villager. His clothes are filthy. There seems to be coats of dried mud and – oh, dear, is that blood on his chin ? Average sized, average built, he blends right into the crowd. She would never have been able to pick him out herself. She watches him just long enough to see him spit in one of the guards’ face when he comes to untie him – at this point, a hand is placed on her shoulder and she is turned away.

“You see,” one of the men tells her. He sounds both embarrassed and resentful. “He is far from presentable. I have been told he didn’t let them take him easily either – he knocked down six of our men before they could hold him down.”

“A ruffian. Barbaric. I don’t know what we are to do with him. This is terribly worrying.”

“Well, we could use this to our advantage,” another comments. “He’s a villager, yes ? Well, that’s what we tell our people. He’s one of you. A Hero of commoners.”

“He has formidable strength !”

“But using it against us – unacceptable. We have to do something about the rumours, as well. This is a most horrid start.”

Zelda sits down. She feels faint. Yes, a most horrid start, but everything can be fixed. She simply needs to figure it out. She closes her eyes, and the mark on her breast begins to glow. The ministers fall into silence and watch the Triforce of Wisdom work its magic.

“My Queen,” one of them attempts softly, “You are not to meet him if you do not wish to. There are other ways to throttle our ills. And we can do our best to discipline him, before giving him his divine task…”

“It is fine,” she hears herself say. The faintness is subsiding. “I’d like to meet him now, if possible. Direct him to the Audience room, please.”

There’s an anxious mutter, but no one objects. The Triforce is still glowing. The ministers give her a deep bow, and excuse themselves.

“I wonder if there was some precedent of this in the past – an uncooperative Hero,” she hears one of them mutter on their way out. “Perhaps history can guide use.”

She hates them all, for a few seconds, for their ridiculous manners and condescending tones. She will not dwell on history, but change it, and all should follow suit. She almost calls after them as the door shuts – instead, she calls after her maid, to finish her braiding.

If she is to meet the Hero, no matter how crude, she is to look presentable.

Hyrule Castle is a maze like no other. The organisation of rooms was thought out by nobility, and not by any man with basic understanding of architecture. As a result, most servants just beginning their employment are handed a map. The corridors are ridiculously lengthy and carpeted with velvet. There are too many possible turns. No one is happy with this arrangement. No one. However, the aristocracy is content with getting lost in pretty chandeliered rooms, so nothing has been made to change it.

The knight himself has one of those maps. He has kept the one he was handed when he stepped into active service (and many envy him, for they were not as wise, and are condemned to rely on luck and shady directions from the staff). With it open wide before him, he leads his group, and Link within it, to the Audience Room.

“The Queen wants to see him right away, sir,” the order had come, and the knight had turned so red that the messenger had been tempted to skit.

“Ridiculous,” he’d blustered, looking indignantly at his squadron. “Preposterous. He cannot be in the presence of high royalty !”

They had untied Link’s hands. He had used the opportunity to knock his fist into the closest guard’s face and try to make a run for it. They had tied Link’s hands again. The rope is digging into his wrists.

Orders, nonetheless, are orders. So the Hero is escorted (dragged) through the velvet and the crystal trinkets and the goddamned endless corridors, to the Audition Room. This, he will soon discover, is a smaller version of the Hylian Throne Room, containing one cushioned seat and two sets of large windows, painted over with illustrations of the Legend (like all rooms, of course, in the castle – after all, its sole purpose was to ensure that the new cycle would come again). He won't pay much attention to it while inside, and refuses to waste time thinking about it now. He needs to plan his next move.

Evidently, he has to call off anything that could be associated with terrorism. Attacking the Queen herself would be suicide, and he has no doubts that they would run him through, Hero or not. The patrol is tight around him. His escape can’t be made _now_ , but perhaps inside, or while they’re making their way in, he might manage to kick enough legs to slip away… Maybe, if the doors are narrow enough, he could run for it while they poured in, in a line. Maybe. Either way, he'll have to be quick, and keep his eye out for the smallest of weaknesses. He wonders how Rine is doing.

The doors, he finds, are neither narrow nor small, and the guards group easily steps through them without shifting out of formation. Well, that's a problem. They swing open before them and forward he is pushed, a tug in his chest informing him of the departure of his chances. There had been no opening, and nowhere to go. He’ll just have to… have to….

_Ah…_

Beneath his sleeve, the Triforce starts glowing faintly. It itches. The feminine figure standing before them turns around, and on her chest, between the delicate seams and the delicate silk, shines her very own. She reaches up to scratch lightly at it. He wishes he could do so as well.

“Hello,” she says, but it’s very soft, almost a whisper. By the look on her face, she couldn’t muster anything louder. She stands with her back to the tainted glass, soft red light shining off her pale braid. There might be tears in her eyes.

He just stares at her.

There isn’t much he more can do, with his hands bound behind his back, but even his will to mouth something, be it a greeting or an insult, has melted away. Transfixed would be an overstatement, certainly, but Queen Zelda has an aura that attracts all gazes towards her and traps them. The room is completely still. Link is far from immune to the calmness she emits.

She lets out a small gasp and he feels suddenly that he can move again. He coughs harshly and blinks. The light has left colourful spots dancing in his eyes.

“Of course !” she smiles, taking a few steps towards him. “You’re mute, just as the Legend foretold. Could you untie him, please ?”

“My Queen…” the eldest begins, but the protest dies in his throat under her gaze. He kneels and unties the knot around Link’s wrists. He rubs them gingerly.

“That’s all better.” She smiles again and comes a little closer. From this distance, the grime on his face does nothing to hinder his good looks. In his eyes she finds fierceness and a little bit of defiance and she thinks, perhaps, that they were all too quick to judge him. “Your name is Link, correct ?”

He nods.

“Yes, it could be no other way. Well, Link – I must welcome you to Hyrule Castle.”

This time he just stares. His hate might have died down, but his intentions to cooperate have not grown in its place.

She pays it no mind. “I am very sorry that you were taken away from your hometown in what I understand was a rather brutal manner,” (there’s a few gulps from the guards) “but am glad to finally meet you. It’s a pleasure to connect at last with the holder of Courage.”

And she says it in a grandiose way that makes her soft voice bounce off all four walls at once, echoing in his ears. She says it with reverence and pride and joy, because she cannot possibly understand how the mark on his arm has made him feel, for the seven years he has borne it. He grits his teeth.

“May I see it ?”

It is not a question for him. The eldest knight comes forth and pulls up his sleeve, bunching it over his shoulder. Link screws his eyes shut and tries to pretend that his Triforce isn’t glowing, and that he isn’t on his knees before the Queen of Hyrule, in an unfamiliar palace in an unfamiliar town, where everything has been sterilised and planned out down to the inches between the cobblestones. In his mind little Rine is climbing onto his back. They’re going to the lake in the forest, to fish for dinner. Rine is singing an old song. _“_ _What I dream I had_ _, pressed in organdie, clothed in crinoline of smoky burgundy - softer than the rain…”_

Zelda tears her gaze away from his mark, and for a split second there might have been anger in the corner of her eye; when she blinks, it is gone. There was no one to see it, and no one to recognise it for what it was. And so, it is as though it were never there at all.

“I don’t want to overwhelm you,” she says, and her voice rips a gaping hole into Link’s careful daydream. The forest vanishes, and Rine’s voice is lost. The carpet does nothing to soften the strain on his knees. “I think it were be best if we were to give you some time to adjust. Then, when you have rested, we may discuss what you know and what you don’t. I have arranged for the guest quarters to be prepared for you. One of my knights will lead you to your room. Perhaps we can talk a little more at supper.”

“ _Perhaps_ ,” Link signs, hardened gaze digging into her smile. She caught him off guard once, but it won’t happen again. She has the airs and qualities of a lovely ruler, and he understands why the people love her so. He, however, is not so naïve. And most importantly, he is angry.

“Jolly good, then,” she tells him, and giggles softly, as though the expression were particularly funny. It’s almost infectious. “I shall see you tonight, Hero. Make yourself at home !”

Both feel like it sounds a little too much like an order.

“I just don’ understand you.”

The guard escorting him to his room is one of the youngsters, and he likes to run his mouth. Most importantly, he seems to lack the etiquette that strings the others like puppets. Although he irritates Link, he is the most human, and therefore the most bearable.

“I mean… You’re the Hero, right ? You were famous before you were even born. You’ve got power and a title practically above royalty, ‘n now the Queen is hostin’ you in our best rooms. Surely that’s better than whatever muddy village we dragged you from, right ?”

Oh, he’s plummeting down Link’s ranking now.

“What, did you leave someone behind ?” he snickers, “A pretty girl ?”

“ _A friend,_ ” he signs slowly. “ _She was like my little sister._ ”

The guard doesn’t answer. When he does, they’ve stopped in front of a wide set of doors. He produces a key from his pocket and says :

“At least you’ll be someone she can look up to.”

And with that, he hands Link the key and makes his leave. He probably thinks he is being very enigmatic, poetic in deep and subtle ways. Link, of course, has forever associated his face with the word “asshole”. The only thing of interest he has brought him is the golden key that rests in his palm. Link pushes it into the lock and turns.

Before he has the time to open it, however, footsteps behind him grasp his attention. He turns and meets golden eyes. They belong to a tall young man with skin darker than he has ever seen, and hair redder than the brightest ginger. They stare at each other for a moment – and then the man disappears. Link’s shoulder itches again.

He goes into his room and locks it twice behind him.


	3. Chapter 3

The world, according to Ganondorf, is a battlefield.

He has always had to fight. Fighting is a second nature, if not a first – a built-in reflex, an automatism. On the very day of his birth he had fought for life, in the sand and the blazing sun. He had fought for air and for tears and, eventually, for a ceremonial scream that marked his beginnings. Throughout his childhood he had continued to battle, with poverty, hunger and illness. Everyone had. Those were the ways of his people, the ways on which he was raised, and ways that he carried within him. If you are faced with an enemy, an obstacle, a challenge – ye thwart. And you keep walking forward.

Some of the Gerudo left the desert seeking better lives, riches and fortune beyond the heritage of their race. Good on ‘em, aye – but they’d softened. The word the chiefs had used was “rotted.” Their morals had decomposed, and their fighting spirit weakened into oblivion. They had bowed down to the Hylian throne and lived upon it, like leeches. They were, in every way, identical to the elvish nobility who sauntered about the palaces and ministries in frills. This is why they are hated so, for in the ways of the Gerudo, a life built not by your hand is no life at all.

Ganondorf left the desert not for his own gain, but for that of his people. Ganondorf believes that there needn’t be spite. The Hylians are prone to forgetting that they are not the only race in Greater Hyrule, and it never hurts to remind them. The Gerudo have long been casually pushed into the shadows, like a discarded book kicked beneath the nearest futon – their martial tradition has been woven in many minds into a passion for murderous rampages. It’s an easy vision to form, and mostly, he understands, facilitated by the mark on his forearm. Power has shed blood, but this is not what he seeks from it this time. All he desires is balance. And for the sun to shine upon his people again.

He is ready to go a long way, for that.

Ganondorf is in Hyrule as a diplomat, and so it says on the doors to his quarters : GANONDORF DRAGMIRE, and in lowercase, beneath it, ‘diplomat.’ They’ve given him comfortable living space and long, threatening glares. He understands. His name, like that of his host and his prophesised adversary, is in the books. His, unlike theirs, carries more fear than glory. He doesn’t mind. Names and history aren’t everything in a person.

For instance, the Queen has been named, like every Hylian descendant of the throne, Zelda. She is grace and wisdom incarnate, a being of light, love and council. He, of course, doesn’t trust her. Every glass she has poured for him, he has refused. This is somewhat of an overreaction, but where his senses have failed him, his instincts have saved his life. And he knows, deep inside, that there is something not right with the Queen. There’s a sharpness in her gaze. Or maybe it’s just when she’s looking at him.

The Hero, for his part, is still unknown territory. Ganondorf has only caught a glance of him, before he scrambled into his room. A curious young man, from what he could tell. His face was covered in dry mud and blood congealing over his lips; the hardness in his eyes told him he put up a fight. The rumours that reached him said he had landed a punch on several of the guards escorting him. That in itself is a feat worthy of respect, and Ganondorf is looking forward to speaking with him. Personally, he suspects it won’t be long, now. When their eyes met, there rose a spark of curiosity that would certainly lead Link to his door soon enough and there is no doubt in the fact that the harsh knocking on his door is him. Already ? Wasting no time, eh. A man after his own heart.

Indeed, the Hero is standing on his doorstep. He is frowning faintly. When the door creeks open for him, he looks up into Ganondorf’s face again and gives a smug grin.

“ _Thought you were supposed to be taller,_ ” he signs.

“Taller than _you_ ,” Ganondorf corrects him. “And that is not the most difficult thing to achieve.”

There is no sign of insult in Link’s face. He laughs merrily (albeit silently, and it’s a little disconcerting to watch) at the comment and extends a hand. “ _I’m Link.”_

Ganondorf decides that he likes him.

“I’d guessed. Come in.”

He does, and doesn’t give a second look to anything around him. The Gerudo colours that Ganondorf has taken with him on his trip, hanging loosely from the ceiling in vibrant drapes, nor the traditional trinkets he felt too nostalgic to leave behind, spark any kind of judgement. The Hero seems completely unbothered by everything around him.

He seats himself down on the closest cushion and looks up expectantly. “ _Ganondorf,”_ he signs, his fingers painstakingly forming every syllable. “ _It’s a handful. Can I call you Ganon ?”_

The young man chuckles. “Well, it would be rather ominous, but I do not mind one bit. Call me what you like.”

“ _Great,”_ Link cheers. “ _So, shall we battle to the death now or after dinner ?”_

“After dinner would be most convenient,” he answers, and sits down opposite him. It’s a pleasant surprise to find that Courage has a sense of humour. “I am ever so busy, planning the demise of the entire kingdom, you understand…”

Link grins again, and visibly relaxes. The steely look in his eyes is slowly melting, washing away any worries he might have had. He scratches at the skin under his sleeve absent-mindedly.

“ _Did the Queen haul your ass over here too ?”_ he asks after a while, and Ganondorf notices him rubbing his wrists. They’re laced with red marks and a rope burns. Clearly, the Queen hauled _someone_ ’s ass over here.

“No. I came here by my own free will. A diplomatic mission on behalf on the Gerudo. Although I’m sure her… Highness must be glad to have me in sight.” And the word _Highness_ rolls off his foreign tongue like a crude insult. Link enjoys the intonation immensely.

“ _Diplomat ?_ ”

“Yes.” He pauses to roll his golden bracelets around his forearm. The Triforce below them is itching. “I thought I might as well try, even though my work is doomed to failure. History does not work in my favour.”

“ _Didn’t work much in my favour either._ ”

Ganondorf takes a moment to look at Link – to look at him properly. The young man is sitting with his back curved forward and legs crossed. He is wearing what he recognises as typical villager attire, and his entire appearance screams forest, from his torn shirt (with only one sleeve, he notices, beneath which Link’s fingers scratch and scratch and scratch) to the green fabric wrapped around his ankles. He would feel no surprise if a leaf were to fall from his hair. His forearms are tan and his nails short and chipped. He couldn’t look further from the mythical Hero figure he, too, has been tied to against his will.

Link has noticed his insistent examination, and runs a hand through his hair. It sticks up in strange ways. “ _I’m a farmer,_ ” he tell him, “ _not quite a royal knight. They dragged me from my home, so I’m not…”_ (he huffs softly here) “… _presentable.”_ The mere concept seems to annoy him, and Ganondorf receives the confirmation that indeed, Link could not care less.

“Well, they have a very static image of what the Hero is supposed to look like. For instance…”

“ _Green.”_ Link sticks his tongue out. “ _If they make me wear any kind of green, I’ll riot. Again.”_

Ganondorf raises an eyebrow at this point – he hadn’t wanted to _ask,_ that would simply be impolite, but now that Link had brought it up, there was nothing stopping him. He leans in and grins.

“So it _is_ true ! I heard you’d punched half the squadron into oblivion when they came to find you, but I didn’t know if it was truthful or just gossip. You have no idea how pleased I am to find out you actually did it. I long to every day, but it wouldn’t help my current situation. I’d just be playing into their hands.”

Link settles back, resting his back against the wall behind him. There’s amusing smugness in his eyes. “ _I’ll have you know I spat in a few faces, as well._ ”

“Splendid.”

Bonding could occur over the smallest of things – anarchism is what brings them together. Ganondorf offers wine, which Link accepts gladly, and they sit together long enough to finish two bottles. They chat about history, and themselves, and what a pain in the ass the royalty is. Ganondorf shares stories of his training, and Link the tastiest tales of village life. They let the sun set behind them in quiet companionship, thankful to have found an unlikely anchor in this unknown environment, and finally Link asks the question that had been on both their minds since the start :

“ _Do you…remember anything ?_ ”

If Ganon hadn’t been taught sign language at the youngest of ages (necessary, you see, for every Gerudo child to know, for the elders soon lose their voices to the desert’s scorching heat and blazing dryness), he would never have understood what the hell Link was trying to convey. The young man had just waved his arms faintly about, fingers curling here and there, into what verbally would sound like ‘ _Dye remembleler am,nmnything ??_ ’ Thankfully, the Gerudo is fluent, and equally inebriated, so he gets it immediately and shakes his head grandly.

“No,” he adds unnecessarily, the word bubbling on his lips. Perhaps two bottles had been a slight understatement. “Not from my er, past lives. You don’t either, right ?”

“ _Nope.”_

“S’funny, _”_ he grins. “They say usually one of three do, ‘nd it’s usually supposed to be me. Wouldn’t be fun, remembering mass murder.”

“ _Maybe it’s Zuh…Zelda,”_ Link comments, but he’s not even sitting straight anymore. His eyelids have drooped considerably. “ _I’m glad I don’t, anyway. Imagine livin’ again ‘n again ‘n again ‘n again…”_

“ ‘n again ‘n again ‘n again,” Ganon provides wisely.

“ _…’n again ‘n again for ONE purpose !!!”_ His index shoots up and he does his best to keep his hand up displaying it. “ _And that purpose is stopping an asshole – no offense – from destroying civilisation, again ! You’re not allowed to do anythin’ else with your life, you just gotta go around waving some goddamn sword…”_

“Terrible,” Ganon nods, and his accent is more overbearing now he’s deep drunk. He rolls his r’s joyfully. “Terrible – you know what’s terrible ? People stare at me like I’m planning to start a genocide, but man, I’m what, twenty ?”

Link nods like the meaning of life had just been whispered to him, and narrowly stops himself from toppling over. “ _The Legend is a dirty fuckin’ shackle.”_

There’s a rustle from the hallway, where metal is clinking and clanking and footsteps are thumping on the carpet. There’s a shout that neither of them listens in on.

“A ruckus out there,” the Gerudo mutters, looking up at the door. “They like to make messes and revere in them. Gives ‘em something to do. Or sometimes they make a mess ‘n leave it there for some other poor sod to deal with. That’s what they did to my home.”

Link has, even if he’s hammered, the decency to let him speak. In the hallway, a door is tackled and breaks open. They don’t look up.

“I came to find justice, you know ? And truth. But they’re all bastards here. They tell you they’ll discuss it later and forget all about it as soon as they walk away. There are people starvin’ and dyin’ and – there’s nothin’ I wouldn’t do to save ‘em, my people. Some day, Link, they’ll just _have_ to listen…they’ll have to listen.”

And for some reason, this doesn’t sit right with the Hero.

He’s about to ask for clarification when something heavy rams right into their door – it hits the wood once and twice and thrice before the whole structure snaps out of its hinges and crashes onto the floor. A tall Hylian in shiny armor pieces steps over it and into the room.

Ganon removes a piece of wood embedded into his shoulder and looks up at the man. “Why, my dear fellow, have you never heard of knocking ?”

The guard ignores him entirely; he’s locked his gaze onto Link. “He’s over here, fellas,” he shouts into the hallway, and there’s a collective relaxed sigh. “We’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

“ _Except across the hall_ ,” Link giggles. In his state he finds the whole situation dreadfully funny. This doesn’t go down very well with the guard.

“You weren’t supposed to leave your room, _sir,_ ” he tells him, gritting his teeth. “When we knocked there was no response, so we took immediate action and, ah…broke in. Seeing how you acted with the brigade that brought you in, we were worried you’d tried to bail on us again.”

“Ridiculous !” Ganon booms, and throws an arm over Link’s shoulders. “He just came in for a little chat !”

“…and a drink,” the guard mutters. There are three empty bottles on the carpet. Two had indeed been an understatement.

“Nothing wrong with that, right ?”

“No, I guess not.” The man looks a little distraught, and gives the hallway a quick look before continuing. “In any case, the Queen has invited the Hero to dine with her, so we were instructed to bring him clean clothes and make sure he’s decent enough to be in royal presence.”

“ _Of course.”_ Link rolls his eyes and tries to get up – with help from Ganon he successfully balances back onto his feet, resting a shoulder against the wall. “ _I don’t suppose I’m allowed to refuse._ ”

“Of course not !” the guard laughs. “Don’t be ridiculous. You’ve caused enough trouble as it is, if you weren’t aware – we’d like your full cooperation, now.”

Link gives him a thumbs-up, but his eyes whisper homicide. The guard is just clever enough to sense it, and excuses himself. “We’ll just…leave your clothes out for you, then. Her Highness is expecting you in two hours.”

Once he is gone, Ganon in turn stands and extends a hand. Link shakes it gladly. “T’was a pleasure to meet you, Link.”

“ _The same,_ ” Link smiles. His head has gradually stopped spinning. “ _Don’t destroy Hyrule while I’m eating.”_

“Course not. We’ll choose an appointed date later, when we’re both free.”

He makes for the corridor, and only trips once. “ _Wish me luck !_ ” he waves on his way out. There’s no door to close behind him.

“Good luck,” Ganon shouts after him, and wishes it honestly. He doesn’t trust Zelda, but he believes Link is a good man, who does not deserve to be ensnared. Discord in the Triforce is not usual (or at least not passed on, for surely, surely this is not the first time), but it can be used. Perhaps the cycle can be stopped.

He’ll go to bed with the pleasant feeling that if one is to die, this time it will not be him. It’s a drunken, hopeful and dangerous thought, but he’ll sleep through it nonetheless – he’ll be tired, but his faith will hold strong. It’s neither good nor bad; it will be up to him to decide what to turn it into, and what to do with it. His decision has not yet been made.

This, perhaps, is the start of their downfall.


	4. Chapter 4

The dining room is being re-arranged.

Traditionally, Hylian royalty was to supper at a finely crafted table, covered in intricate designs and numerous cloths, that stood several metres long. Zelda does not remember everything from her childhood, just like any other adult who has long since grown out of it. She does, however, vividly picture meals during which her father’s face was too far away to be quite in focus. _That_ was how long the table was.

Customs said that at cardinal points were to be filled first, before the remaining chairs were scraped back. Therefore, if there were to be two of them, they would have to be seated opposite each other, on the northern and southern side. Zelda has known Link for barely a day, but she understands his attitude. If he walked into the room and found a six-metre-long table, he would probably turn around and walk right out again.

So, the dining room is being re-arranged.

“The carpet _needs_ to be red, Jose !” The decorator cradles his head in his hands a moment, and his glasses threaten to tumble right out of his hair. “Can’t you see ? A shade darker and it won’t show in the candlelight. Too light, and it’s pink. Pink, my friend, is undignified. And it is my very job to keep things dignified. So go fetch me the damned red carpet !”

The damned red carpet, she has been told, is to be placed beneath a round, smaller table, fit for four rather than twelve. This has already been varnished, and is waiting in the back. Personally, she finds it quite lovely.

She watches from the doorway, running her hands down her braid. Everything is being put into place. The cutlery skims past her, shinier than she thought possible, and is rapidly slapped onto the table. It already has a fine bottle of wine standing proudly on it – a rather old one, according to the label, which her father had been keeping for a special occasion. This is, in her opinion, as special as it will get, but she doesn’t think they’ll get around to uncorking it; according to the guards’ chatter, the Hero hadn’t drunk sparingly before coming around. She hopes this won’t jeopardise their talk, for there is nothing more capital. For that reason, she has asked her medic to send something to the Hero’s room, a small potion that would ease any aches the alcohol might have given him. This, perhaps, will ease him.

It tastes _disgusting_ , he thinks, and that is no understatement. It tastes worse than the time I licked an old tree in the forest and got moss all over my tongue. It tastes significantly worse than the time I swallowed paint, and somehow, _somehow,_ it tastes worse than the fish meal I had that was two weeks old. It tastes, he thinks, like desolation itself. After all the sweet Gerudo wine, it tastes like a slap in the face.

It serves as one, too, because his head is instantly cleared. The fog in his eyes recedes, and his balance is somewhat restored. Works magic – and it probably cost enough to feed a village. Ah, the royal life.

His living space includes a bathroom that’s nearly as big as the room where he and Ganon had drunk together, and it is blindingly white. And by blinding, he means that he had to cover his eyes when he walked in. The entire surface is covered in sparkling marble. He manages to cover the window with a nearby curtain and finds the room tolerable enough to clean up.

It’s not an entirely pleasant experience – he feels like he’s rubbing his village off his skin. The mud, the dried up leaves, all whisper forest and home, and he watches them swirl down the drain with discomfort. Once he’s done there isn’t a trace of dirt on him, and his skin is lighter. It’s almost like his tan has been washed off as well, although it’s only a trick of this light. He wishes he’d just stayed dirty. This castle is a hateful place.

They’ve prepared new clothes for him, an assortment of fabric sewed into items he didn’t even know the _name_ of; most of the pieces, expectedly, were green. Most were made to match the emerald colour Zelda had been wearing when they met, and it makes him feel just a little worse. He’s starting to see the path they’re drawing for him. He doesn’t particularly enjoy it.

Fuck this, he decides, and wraps a towel around his waist. He doesn’t have to play into their hands, and his life has given him ways to get around. Most of those include sneaking and clever schemes. Or sometimes, just walking down the hall. He doesn’t have a door anymore, and neither does Ganon, so he can see the Gerudo grumbling and mumbling, trying to nail a bright coloured sheet into a makeshift door to his room. He gives an energetic wave, and Ganon emerges from behind the curtain, pushing his head out between its folds.

“Had a nice shower ?”

Link wonders if they’re friends – or on friendly enough terms for him to flash him a rude sign. He decides to do it anyway in a wave of nihilism, and Ganon just cackles.

“ _The clothes are ridiculous,_ ” he tells him, throwing a thumb over his shoulder. “ _I’ll look like a talking tree. Any chance you could help me out ?”_

Ganon is eyeing his shoulder, and Link realises that for the first time his Triforce is openly in sight. He slaps a hand over it and glares at the young man to snap out of it. He does, and looks over into his room.

“Maybe. Hold on.”

Link holds on, and when Ganon appears again, he’s grinning. A few items hit him square in the face, and he peels them off to find they’re a nice shade of dark red. He runs his fingers over the golden lining on the sleeves and nods. “ _Thank you. You’re a lifesaver.”_

Ganon gives a short bark of laughter. “Haven’t been called _that_ before. It’s no trouble. If you gimme your other clothes I can probably get ‘em cleaned up for you. They’ll probably throw ‘em out while you’re away, otherwise.”

He grabs his village clothes off the bathroom floor and hurls them at the Gerudo, looking for some kind of payback, but Ganon is too tall, and too quick. He catches them easily.

“I hope you got a belt, by the way. My stuff’ll be considerably too big for you, won’t it ?”

Link responds to his shit-eating grin with one of his own. “ _Fuck off ! And thanks again._ ”

“That’s fair. Good luck with her Lowness !”

And with that, the curtain is dropped back into place.

Fine. Yes. The clothes are too big.

Actually, that’s an understatement – he’s absolutely drowning in the tunic, and his hands don’t show from under the sleeves, so he opts for the under one. With a belt and some layering, he makes it work, and finds that he looks both presentable and pretty good. The absence of excessive green in his outfit is a blessing.

For him, anyway, because the guards almost spin on their heels and scatter when they reach his door. One of them does a very amusing double-take between Link, dressed in ruby and gold and grinning like the Cheshire Cat, and the pile of untouched green clothes made from the finest of Hylian silks, goddamn it ! None of them manage to form a full complaint (although one of them gurgles a little), and thus he considers this one a victory on his part.

“ _So. Are we going ?_ ” He steps out into the hallway and makes his way past the guards. “ _We wouldn’t want to keep the Queen waiting…_ ”

The general message he gets from their collective muttering is something along the lines of “Right, of course,” and this suits him well. His escort to the Dining Room is tense and silent, which suits him better. The eldest guard, walking by his side and close enough to easily grasp his arm, if the need arose, keeps opening and closing his mouth, jutting his jaw out. Nothing, however, comed of this. They reach the throne room unhappy on one part, and beaming on the other.

“In you go, then.” The guard sounds weary, his voice washed out. Link suspects he’d pushed them just far enough to completely lose their respect, and wonders if he should worry about that.

“ _In I go, then,_ ” he repeats, and walks through the open door.

Zelda was already seated, but she rises as soon as she sees him. She has changed out of her green dress and is now wearing a much looser white one that flows at the sleeves and below the waist. The gold that lines the cloth matches her hair, which she’s let down. It cascades down her shoulder prettily.

She has a long look at him, lips slightly parted – surprise has, it seemed, stolen the words right from her mouth. Her eyebrows furrow for a moment, and she takes in his current attire. He knows there is no way she hasn’t recognised the Gerudo patterns, but she doesn’t mention them, or any of his outfit. Instead, she looks up and smiles.

“We re-arranged it,” she says, and gestures proudly around the room. Now that she mentions it, it _does_ seem too big, the ceiling too high, the walls too far apart, for the small round table they’ve set down in its centre. The circular carpet beneath it looks very red. “Oh, it isn’t much, but I didn’t want you to be uncomfortable. I know this fancy setting is far from your own.”

He nods, because he isn’t sure what else he’s expected to do. He feels the effect of her presence again, like he had in the Audience Room hours before – the air around her seems almost still, and his eyes can’t seem to veer far from her, as though she were a magnet. It’s strange.

“Oh, do sit down ! I’m sure you’re hungry, and we have a great deal to discuss. Come, come !”

He comes, and takes his seat. She sits once more and he finds her smiling again. She looks giddy, and she’s aware of it, because she covers her face with a hand and laughs.

“I’m very sorry if I’m not acting very proper. You see, I’ve been waiting to meet you since my early childhood. It does a job on the nerves !”

“ _…It’s fine,_ ” he tells her, but he’s incredibly at loss, like a wonky compass. “ _I’m not expecting anything from you._ ”

“Well that’s something I’m very glad to hear.” She pulls her chair in and reaches for the wine. “Will you have a drink ? I know you had one with Mr. Dragmire, earlier, but this isn’t strong, although it’s fine stuff.”

He shakes his head. “ _No thank you._ ” And then, as an afterthought : “ _He’s a very nice man._ ”

“Yes, he certainly seems so.” Zelda leaves it at that, and pours herself a glass. Once she’s had a long sip, she leans back and gives him a stone look. “However, you should not believe the image he projects, but look for what’s beneath it. Perhaps that’s a subject we may discuss a little later on.”

He nods dumbly again. His head feels like it isn’t sitting right on his shoulders.

Zelda calls for her server, and gently asks him if he could be so kind as to bring through their starters. As he’s gazing at his plate and the expensive smoked salmon and olives in it, it occurs to him that the source of his current state is that very gentleness. Zelda is incredibly reasonable, and that in itself has caused him to fall halfway out of his saddle. All thoughts of confrontation have disappeared from his mind, and no amount of scrambling is able to retrieve them – he can’t bring himself to.

Not yet, anyway.

Zelda puts down her fork – in which Link can see the reflection of her profile, still smiling like a little girl – and crosses the fingers of her two hands beneath her chin. “Well. I’m sure you have some rather important questions on your mind, and since you seem rather shy, I’m happy to bring a few up, off the top of my head. First, you must be wondering why I had you escorted here, aren’t you ?”

Escorted is inaccurate, and the word he would personally use is _dragged,_ but now isn’t the time to contradict her. He nods her onwards, and she nods back.

“It’s simple,” she says, and pronounces it _shimple,_ because she’s still chewing. “I needed you here ! You see, a few months ago, Ganondorf Dragmire reached Hyrule Castle, uninvited and unannounced. Based on the events that history has passed onto us, we were all rather wary of him, but he introduced himself as a diplomat and expressed a deep desire to reconnect the land of Hyrule to the Gerudo Desert, to the west.

It was my role as a dutiful ruler to take him in, but I did it with his name and its history in mind. I have no choice but to rely on what we’ve been told, because as of now, we know nothing. What we do know for sure is that he has the Triforce of Power, as foretold in the Legend. That is a bad sign, stamped right into his forearm.”

Link realises he had missed it completely.

“As I myself possess the Triforce of Wisdom, passed down through my lineage,” she continues, and her hand rests upon her chest. There, below the collarbone and barely visible beneath the V-cut collar of her dress, it shines. “I was missing in my court the last member of our sordid trio : the holder of Courage. The books I have studied all my life made it clear that the Triforce of Courage appears at the age of twelve on its holder’s skin. Curiously, the others are already there at birth. It is as though Courage needs to test, or confirm, that its holder is worthy of its power…”

In her voice resounds the deep interest and passion of a scholar. Her eyes shine, but she quickly wipes the excitement off her face when she finds him looking.

“These, of course, are theories at best. In any case, I sent my men looking for an individual of over twelve years old matching the usual characteristics : mute, named Link. Fate is a strange thing.” She laughs, but he has no desire to join her. “And, well, they found you ! Although you didn’t come without putting up a fight.”

She sighs, and it stings him deeply. Feeling the need to explain, he raises his hands, but she waves vaguely at him and he puts them back down on the table.

“Look, Link. I know you’re lost, but believe me, so am I. I’ve been reading the scriptures and deciphering the Legend for years, trying to make my path clearer, or at least to find a torch to take along the way. I haven’t found one. Since you’ve arrived, I’ve been thinking very hard, about what to tell you, how to explain to you why you have to step up and take on your role. I simply don’t know. I don’t know how your previous incarnations felt, nor how mine advised you. I don’t have divine words for you, only real threats, and a political responsibility to thousands. Do you understand ?”

It’s harsh, and it comes from the heart. Her cheeks have flushed, and her eyes no longer meet his. For a moment he feels the weight on her shoulders, the fear in her heart. For a moment he does understand. But a foul taste fills his mouth, and it all slips away. The server comes for their plates and takes them away.

Zelda rest her forehead against the palm of her hand and shuts her eyes. When she opens them again, they’re amused and a little sad. “You’re very quiet. I expected it, of course, but it’s a little unnerving.”

“ _If the choice was mine I’d make more noise,_ ” he signs, and it’s a lie. The world would be a better place, were it quiet.

“I don’t doubt it,” she tells him, and the sadness in her eyes is gone. She drains her wine in one swift gulp. “You have more humour than I had ever hoped. _That_ is reassuring. I have faith that it’ll take you far.”

And with those words uttered, Link’s gut clenches violently.

He barely winces, but the pain would be enough to make him double over and fall to his knees in an ordinary situation. He doesn’t know what it is, not exactly, but he suspects it’s a lot of things at once. Fear. Anger. Mistrust. More fear.

There was a lot of fear in that clench.

“ _I think I need to t-_ “ he begins, but Zelda isn’t looking at him – she’s calling for their main course. When she turns back, his hands have dropped. She doesn’t notice them trembling.

“I think that is what we must discuss next. It is of the highest importance. Your role, and why I – and Hyrule in its entirety ! – need you to play it.”

 _No,_ he thinks very hard, hoping that perhaps the word might become audible. _No no no no no no no no no no no no no…_

“I’m sure, Link, that you love your kingdom, because you love your village. You love your home, like millions of Hylians. In our neighbouring regions, there are Zoras, Ritos and Gorons who love their home too.”

_I do love my home. But Ganon loves his home, too. We all –_

“The issue is that we have been both blessed and cursed by the Goddesses that watch over us. Farore, Din and Nayru are the mothers of Hyrule, and while they have left us with a tremendous challenge to overcome over each generation, they have also left us the Legend. It has allowed us, over the course of centuries, to foresee the Scourge’s uprising and prevent our land’s destruction.

Although change is what every kingdom strives for – or progress, if you wish to call it so – it is slow to appear and slower to take root. Today is no different from one hundred or a thousand years ago. The Triforce is still split between three. Power still represents a threat too great to be put aside. The reason I have brought you here, Link, is because I and my government believe that Ganondorf is dangerous.”

This appears so abstract, so baseless, because Link doesn’t believe. The Goddesses, and the Legend – he knows they exist, but they don’t have his core, his _faith._ He finds within him the strength, the

_(courage)_

to lift his hands, and tells Zelda that “ _You mistreat him, and unfairly. Have you taken the time to talk to him ? Strike up a chat ? Or did you have him locked up in his room from day one ? Change is only slow when there’s resistance against it. Maybe Ganondorf has changed, but you won’t give him a chance, and you’ll act like it was destiny when you push him to his limits and Ganon rises from those ashes. Look, goddamn it, look around you ! You both have the same goal ! You both want to protect your homes, just like I do. There doesn’t have to be a bad guy, and there doesn’t have to be a fight to the death, and I really wish I could…”_

 _Go home_ , he thinks, but his hands have dropped onto the tablecloth with a resounding thud. He’s tired. He’s listened to her, without finding it in him to say his piece, and standing up to the passivity he’d slipped into had been exhausting. His eyes are almost closed, but even in this state, he feels it.

They snap open, and his back arches.

He feels it.

The calmness – no, the warmth, the comfort. The brightness that had seemed to surround Zelda was gone. It had been sucked away. Oh, he had crossed a line, he had _crossed a line, crossed a line …!_

“Fool,” she whispers, and it’s soft, low, not meant for his ears. Her hands have grasped her skirts, and twist, twist, twist. Her fingers shake roughly with each extra fold she makes. “Link, Link, I wish you would _see…_ ” And he isn’t sure, but when she looks up, he is – she’s crying softly. The tears run smoothly down her cheeks and pool beneath her chin. She makes no move to wipe them.

“You’ve spoken to him, so you must. You simply must. You must have noticed… As you have said, although unnecessarily harshly, I myself have not spoken to him. Even so… Even so, what he says, what he preaches, it isn’t quite right. Haven’t you noticed ?

He’s a man with convictions, but no way to express them in the right way. There are some things that _won’t_ change, Link, because Nature is what resists. His blood is that of a warrior. The Gerudo are raised waiting for a battle. I am not the one looking for an enemy, Hero… He is. Haven’t you heard him ? He’s ready to do…”

 _Anything_ , he remembers. It hadn’t sounded quite right. It had sounded dangerous, and misplaced in their conversation. It had sounded a little like a threat, conscious or not.

“And I can see in your face that you have. Noticed, heard, and understood, all at once. So it is – sometimes my Wisdom makes me see things others try to look away from.”

He wishes very hard she was wrong. He wishes there were a misunderstanding. But there is none, and she is right. He has.

“I hope I am wrong, but I think that you came looking for an enemy as well, Link – someone to hate, to blame it all on. Things, however, are often more complex than they seem. Perhaps time has come to re-evaluate the situation, don’t you think ?”

Yes. Yes, he does think so.

The main dish arrives, and they both turn away from it. Zelda, ever so _perceptive_ , notices and stands.

“Let’s take a walk.”

There’s no room in that statement for refusal, so he rises and follows her out of the room. The time it takes them to navigate the long and twisting corridors of the castle, that only Zelda seems to instinctively know, is time to mull it all over. It is also time to doubt. His stomach is cramping again. Maybe it’s because he’s just a village boy, with no experience or concept of politics nor war, but he can’t seem to put it all together. Ganon has been kind. He has been courteous, understanding, and charitable. They had drunk together like old friends and shared their respective life stories. Hell, Link is wearing Gerudo-crafted clothes, a gift from him. And yet, there is danger, and there is threat. Ganon isn’t bloodthirsty nor scheming yet, but in the future, the door is open to the possibility. He could be. Worse, he would be. It isn’t all that dark a road, when you know which way it winds.

It’s all far beyond his understanding.

“Don’t trouble yourself,” Zelda tells him, and places a hand on his forearm. It tingles. She steers him out of the hall, and into the greenery that spread across yards and yards, a thorny labyrinth. Gentle dew has gathered on each leaf, each petal. The garden is a portrait of green and red, glimmering under the moonlight. He breathes in and feels a little closer to home.

“I think I’m overwhelming you.” They take a small path away from the criss-cross of bushes, following a trail of lilies. They shone brightly in the night. “That isn’t something I want to be doing, but I still have a few matters to bring up to you tonight, so that you have the time to think them over in the following days. Is that alright with you ?”

Privately, he doubts it matters. He nods anyway.

“Very well. I believe that I know how you feel about your role – you’re reticent, no doubt scared of the weight it shall be on your shoulders, and more importantly, you see no reason for it to be _your_ responsibility. I might be putting it in less flattering terms, but that is the gist of it, correct ?

I am not blaming you, nor pointing fingers. I can do nothing, in fact, other than explain. That, as the holder of Wisdom, has always been and always will be my own role. Faced with a threat, and an inevitable one at that, our Land needs a knight, a hero, to protect it. Without him, it will surely crumble and decay at the hand of the Scourge. This is why the Goddesses have chosen a man, once knight to the Goddess Hylia herself, to live again each time a menace arrives. This, you might think, is unfair. It’s a loss of freedom. But please understand that it is a sacrifice the Three made with no other choice. If no one is designated, no one will stand up – such is human nature.

I wish I could say it some other way, Link, but the truth is that you don’t have a choice. You never did, and you won’t in the future. You were born and made to fight the Scourge. The time to prepare has come, which is why you’re here with me. I myself have made plans and preparations, in anticipation of your arrival. Tomorrow, I shall expose them to you, and give you your instructions. In the meantime, I believe it would be best for you to get some rest, and think all of this over. Hyrule needs you, and so do I. You’ve known this for quite a few years, no doubt, but now is the time let go of your denial. I’ll see you tomorrow morning for breakfast.”

She doesn’t give him the time to react, nor answer her claims. He recognises this as the move of an experienced politician, who knows how to avoid certain discussions when the time isn't right. She had spoken constantly and with conviction, driven until the last word, without pausing for more than a breath. More importantly, she had avoided looking at him, and his hands. This hadn’t been a conversation – it had been a lecture.

Link does need to rest, but the thinking will take up the whole night. He does lie down, and the sheets are foreign, silky against his rough skin, but his eyes never flutter closed for more than a few seconds. His head is overheating, and his mind in turmoil. Zelda will not beg him, nor will she let him go. She will have him step up, and he can already feel it. It squeezes his heart and makes him feel faintly sick.

He hates the situation more now than he had in the morning. Then, he had been angry, ignorant and willing to break a few jaws. The anger has not boiled down, but he sees her point, he’s heard proof of it himself – he knows.

He doesn’t want to fight, he thinks, and rolls over again, and again, and again (and again and again), trying to find the smallest comfort. He doesn’t want to kill, nor die. He doesn’t want to feel owned, and he does, dragged around under the name of some royal and above order, in the name of Goddesses who had forsaken their land and left three people to fight each other into oblivion for eternity. He wants nothing to do with the Legend, nor saving the world, but in the dark the symbol on his shoulder shines with perverse pride. He wants out. He wants quiet, and peace in all senses.

Above all else, he wants to go home.


	5. Chapter 5

The first thing he notices when he walks in is that the ambient warmth in the air is nowhere in sight.

The room feels much colder than it had the previous evening – the simpler explanation would spawn from the opened curtains, filling the room with icy morning light, but he’s certain that it isn’t the temperature that’s making the hairs on his arms stand up. They had brought him new clothes during the night, mercifully not green, and he had ditched Ganondorf’s tunic in favour of them. He hadn’t thought he could face Zelda in it again, but now he wished he had; it had sleeves, which his current outfit lacked. He runs a hand up and down his forearm, overly conscious of the now visible Triforce on his shoulder, and knocks three times on the wall.

“Ah, there you are,” Zelda says. She does not look up from the paper she’s reading to greet him. Her free hand gestures for him to come over, and he’s compelled to do so. Something about the emptiness of the room makes him feel vulnerable.

When he pulls his chair back, she taps her forehead and puts the paper down. She doesn’t smile at him, but she does offer him tea. “To help you start your day, perhaps.”

He shakes his head, and she nods at this, as though he had just confirmed all of her guesses. She leans back in her chair – today, she’s wearing a scarlet dress, with an assorted cardigan pulled over her shoulders. Even without the jewellery and diamonds that sparked at her fingers, she looks mighty. Therefore, Link doesn’t doubt her when she tells him, conversationally :

“I know you’ve made up your mind.”

She makes no pause, and drives on. “It is a terribly selfish decision you have set your mind on, Hero,” (and she makes it sound like a jab) “But most importantly it is a dangerous one. I’m sure I made that clear for you last night, but it seems my guidance was not sufficient… I must once again wonder how my predecessors played their role.”

“ _I don’t know how mine were able to, either,_ ” Link signs. He’s exhausted, troubled, and definitely not thinking as straight as he was the previous night. Then, a need to act courteous had arisen – now, he had a few dozen things on his mind, and they were pushing to get out.

Zelda looks up at him and raises an impeccable eyebrow. In another setting, it might have appeared cute. He takes it as an invitation to explain himself, and he takes it.

“ _I might be out of place here,”_ he begins, acutely aware that he is _definitely_ out of place here, “ _but I can’t quite resign myself to save the world single-handedly because of some old tale.”_

“The Legend is no tale – it’s a prophecy. And three of us have the very proof of its truths on our skin.”

“ _I’m not saying that it doesn’t hold truth.”_ The Triforce on his shoulder pulses uneasily. “ _Obviously it does. But I’m saying it’s ultimately unfair. We’re not the first cycle, are we ? Far from it, this business has been repeating itself for the past few millenniums. Hasn’t there been time to come up with an alternative ? Why rely on one person when surely, there are other options ? Forgive me, but it’s irresponsible, and se- “_

Zelda’s pupils seem to have dilated in her anger. Her eyes flash hotly. “It is not our place to question the reign of our Goddesses. Your daring borders blasphemy, ‘Hero’, and I would like you to apologise.”

Link does not apologise, because her outrage has unknowingly added fuel to the fire. His hand motions become a little grander, a little more frantic. “ _Well, those Goddesses – let’s talk about them, then ! Hyrule is under their ‘protection’, right, but when is the last time they helped ? When’s the last time they gave advice ? As far as I’m concerned, they’ve washed their hands of us, and let us sort ourselves out. And personally I ain’t- I mean, I’m not sure I’m up to following the commands of the gods who cursed us.”_

Blasphemy had never felt so good. It was one thing it whisper it to himself in the dark privacy of his home, to perform tiny acts of rebellion by ignoring the customs, and cursing the Goddesses under his breath. It was another entirely to say it out loud, to the very Queen of Hyrule. His heart hammers in his chest. He wonders what her response will be, and whether the whipping he’d imagined on the way to the castle would now actually take place – there’s something a little elating about that, too.

But Zelda offers no visible reaction. Her face is bland, blank, and patient. When he’s done, she looks down on the papers she had discarded and hums. “From what I’ve read, Rine Anja is a charming little girl.”

Link stares.

“Daughter of Laine Anja and Morio Anja. Both farmers. Her home village specialises in its unique vegetable species and its sheep, reputed for their soft meat. Small, no more than fifty or so inhabitants, no important place in the trading market, although wine specialists often import their productions into the capital. Hm.” She looks up at him, and smiles. “But her village is your village, isn’t that right ?”

Link offers no answer, mostly because he is frozen in place. He has never been the brightest, but he has a vague idea of where this is going, and he doesn’t like it.

“This is a very detailed and satisfying report,” Zelda continues. “But the most interesting thing about it is no doubt the footnotes detailing how you were found. Rine seems rather attached to you, and always eager to help. A sweet and altruistic little child, who led you to us. She has unknowingly done a great service to her kingdom.”

“ _I don’t suppose you’re going to reward her.”_

At this, the Queen sets the papers aside and faces Link completely. The carefree glint in her eyes has been stripped away, leaving in its place heavy graveness. She gives him a stone stare and slowly shakes her head.

“ _Of course not_ ,” Link mouths.

“I would love nothing more than to give a brave girl what she deserves. However, I am at the head of a State. My responsibilities are numerous, but the very first, the most capital, is to keep my people safe. My chief role is to protect. I understand, Link, that you are opposed to yours, but cannot let this little rebellion of yours put my kingdom in danger.

I hate nothing more than what I am about to say, but there are no alternatives and time is scarce. I know you will not break under torture or personal threat, but you have love in your heart, for your village, for the girl you see as your little sister. To use them against you may appear vile, but the death of fifty is worth it if it saves millions of lives. Such are politics. Cold and heartless. I wish they were another way, but I have no time to make you see the light by yourself.”

She pauses here, and Link’s disbelieving eye is grasping onto every detail of her actions. Her hands shake gently with each breath that she takes. There’s light in her eyes, and they’re wet, glistening in the morning sun. Once, her shoulders tremble, like her every breath. Her state offers him no relief. He’s slowly sinking in his chair, dread making his stomach cramp and his shoulder itch. His thoughts seem to be falling away, escaping him, barely brushing against the tip of his fingers. He wants to put his hands over his ears, or trade over his muteness for deafness, even if it means never hearing Rine sing again – because a silent Rine is better than a dead Rine…. Better, better, better.

“I am giving you a week to give me your answer. You will have ample time to think of the consequences of your decision. We will have no more meals, and no more talks. And if by those seven days you choose not to take your vow of knighthood, then I shall… then, I shall have no choice but to send my guards to burn down the village. You leave me with no alternative, no escape route, Link. I must protect my people, even if it means losing a handful on the way. Such is war.”

A small smile breaks out on her face, almost like an afterthought, and she softens. “However, please know that I can only bear to suggest this because I know in the end no one will get hurt. I know you will make the right decision. You have a good heart, and I hope this will be a sufficient push.”

In the end, neither of them touches their breakfast. Zelda has a servant escort him back to his room, which now has a door again. Royal staff worked fast. A quick look up the corridor tells him Ganondorf got a new one as well. The little plaque stating his name and occupation has not been replaced.

All the green in his wardrobe has been replaced with different shades of everything else, a nice touch that feels slightly like bribery. They’ve taken Ganondorf’s tunic away, and Link guesses that neither of them will be seeing it again. There’s always been a pattern in the way people bearing their names are treated, and the Hylian government is carefully emulating it again. It’s stabbing itself in the foot, in Link’s humble opinion, but if he doesn’t comply they’ll burn his friends alive.

That’s certainly one way to motivate him.

He doesn’t leave his room the rest of the day (nor will he leave it for the next few, in fact). The bathroom is the size of his whole house, and his room big enough to host a small reception. The bed itself could hold a good three to four people. The feeling of being trapped is still present, inevitably, but the vastness of his space soothes it.

He spends a good few hours in the bathtub, fascinated by the amount of bubbles it produces. The castle had offered him his first experience with hot water, and he’s happy to scorch his skin off for the pleasant sensation of his entire body being warmed all at once. The marble is pleasant and comfortable, and he’ll doze off a few times leaning against in, during the following week. Now he just sits, making small waves with his hands, and tries not to think.

He, of course, fails.

It’s hard to keep his mind off his troubles when the entire capital makes a point of reminding him of them. Every street had been cobbled with it, every flag stamped with it, every wooden post carved with it : the Triforce was everywhere, standing as the very emblem of Hyrule kingdom. That, in itself, is sick to him.

When he gazes out of the bathroom window, it’s there – on the glass, on the window sill (a cute and delicate little golden trinket, nailed to its edge). In the courtyard, a careful arrangement of blue and white pavestones shapes it out. Further away, the walls of his cage : the castle gates, high metallic poles all bearing the sacred triangles at their top. There’s no escaping it, for even when he pulls his gaze away from the outside world, he finds it embedded in his skin. It’s a pain, and a constant reminder that everything is very wrong.

In the warmth of the water, hugging his knees to his chest loosely, one of his oldest habits resurfaces. He hasn’t done it since he was a child, still untouched by the struggles of the world, running alone through the forest or sprawled across the floor of his room. With no one to hear him, not even himself, it’s harmless and, he’s been told, rather endearing. Chin dipped in the soapy water, he starts babbling.

“ _It doesn’t make sense.”_

He nods to himself, considering this a good start to his train of thought.

“ _Let’s just retrace the history of this shit for a second. First –_ “ A single finger rises from the water, pointed accusatorily at the ceiling. “ _The Three create the world. The whole thing. By themselves. By doing that they also created all living things. OK – but then they leave, which according to everyone is perfectly normal ! And they leave behind a mythed- no, mythi… an object of myth, which has the power to destroy the world…?”_

A second finger joins the first in the air. “ _After that, the Triforce is split – to avoid that whole end of the world thing, I guess. Three pieces are handed out to three people : the mortal incarnation of some goddess, some guy who really wants to take over the world and the poor sod who served as the goddess’ knight… And then they have to fight to the death, but not once… For ever ! I don’t know the exact definition of ‘curse’, but I’m pretty sure that sounds like one. If they hadn’t left the Triforce behind, then there wouldn’t be war, and maybe, just maybe, we’d stop being reborn just to start killing each other again.”_

He lets himself sink a little deeper into the water, because despair is starting to build up, making his lungs feel a little too large for his ribs.

“ _So now we’re here, and Hyrule prays to these Goddesses like they’re their saviours, and the reason peace exists, when it’s the opposite. Ganon’ll turn to murder again under the pressure of history, Zelda believes in the Legend more than she does in strategy and the last moron stuck in this endless gear is, well, me.”_

His voice doesn’t crack, but only because he hasn’t got one. His lips do tremble, though, and his eyes moisten slightly. He isn’t the kind of person to cry over his fate, but this entire situation is a little… overwhelming.

After that, he stops muttering silently to himself for the day. It hasn’t brought him much, other than a slightly clearer portrait of the misery he was being dragged into. Thinking about home has done no better, and everyone’s smiling face morphs into tears and flames after a while. So he stops thinking altogether for a while, and falls asleep in the tub.

So much for skincare, huh ?

Ganondorf is growing slightly worried, and although he has enough to cause him a great deal of concern already, this particular problem is putting him in worse a state yet.

He hadn’t expected Link to come and see him after his meeting with Zelda, for several reasons. The first was that it was bound to be exhausting, and the tiny Hylian would need his rest. The second, a little blunter, was that he had fallen asleep shortly after speaking with Link in the corridor and was therefore too occupied being unconscious to expect anything of him.

He had, however, hoped that a knock would wake him. Perhaps Link would need to talk. Perhaps – quite certainly, in fact – he would have questions for him. His truth and Zelda’s truth varied in a number of ways. But Link had not woken him; the guards had, in the late morning, by hammering in the hinges of his new door. Lovely thing, tall, sturdy, made of oak. He was able to take the makeshift curtain down. So he had waited throughout the day instead, idly occupying himself with this or that minor business he could take care of from his room. It is only hours into the evening that he realises the obvious : Link is clearly not coming.

Hence the worry, trouble, concern, etc. etc. etc.

As far as Ganondorf is aware, he has no immediate – nor long term – intention to destroy the world, take it over or claim all Hylian lives. But he is not under his own roof, and therefore his word does not stand as the truth. While in Zelda’s castle, all his words are examined, decorticated and studied by her personally, and from this meticulous interpretation comes _her_ truth, which is significantly better regarded than his. He doesn’t know what she told Link, nor what Link himself thinks, but it’s troubling to believe that she might have turn them against each other. He and Link are not quite friends, but they _could_ be, and Ganondorf does not want nor need Link as an enemy.

Perhaps he had simply been scared away by Zelda’s word. In that case, there was an easy fix to all of this that involved nothing more than a trip down the corridor. Or perhaps Ganondorf was growing restless and suspicious, and Link was just resting himself for the day, in which case he should probably follow his example and get some more sleep.

A visit would tell, so a visit he would make.

There’s a knock on the door.

Link, sprawled out on his bed, wouldn’t have gotten up to open it if the Three themselves had come over for him. That’s just how fed up he is. He especially won’t get up now, because the knock was sturdy, decided and not followed by a sigh. It evidently belonged to Ganondorf, and Link can’t bring himself to face the man, especially not today, at this hour.

He feels, now under threat more than ever, that cautiousness has become crucial. He doesn’t want to be Ganondorf’s enemy, even less to be the one to set him off – and hypothetically, anything could. Zelda had been clear on that bit in particular, only confirming Link’s worries about how far his search for justice and his love for his people would take him. And surely, there had been a basis to her claims.

Of course. Otherwise she would not have told him.

This doesn’t mean he wants to avoid the man completely : so far, he has proven excellent moral support, and a sort of brother in an environment foreign to them both. However, he will inevitably have questions, questions that Link doesn’t want to answer. Mayhap letting a few days go by would give him the opportunity to dodge them. He was something of an expert.

He gives it several minutes, during which he hears feet shuffling over the corridor’s carpet (royals seemed rather fond of those), a Gerudo curse and finally a deep sigh that makes him cringe into his pillow. Once he’s sure Ganondorf has retreated into his room, he tiptoes across the room and opens the door a crack.

His village clothes sit there, neatly folded into a pile. The gesture is the last drop that makes his already tethering resolve topple over. Throat a little tight, he writes a note with what stationary he can find and goes to slip it under Ganondorf’s door.

‘Thank you,’ the note simply says. He doesn’t sign it. He doesn’t knock, either, even though he wishes he could. He goes back into his room and locks the door again. A terrible habit that he was letting grow. Maybe by the next morning he’d need another new door – he is, regrettably, somewhat a heavy sleeper.

Two days pass.

Link leaves his room only once, when the walls begin to close in on him and the longing for some fresh air becomes unbearable. They don’t let him leave the castle (for he _does_ try, once or twice, to sneak over this or that hill, crack open this or that gate; every time he is met with cold eyes and cold steel halberds that block his way), but he has been given access to the royal gardens he and Zelda visited together. When he is outside, trying to suck up as much sunlight as possible, it is there he spends his time crouching in the grass. There are flowers around him he’s never seen.

Putting aside his visits to the garden, he hasn’t been doing much, mostly because there isn’t much to be done. Ordinarily lazing around is a novelty, but the castle makes him uneasy. He’s desperate for a distraction of any kind that doesn’t involve threats or murder. With hunting, fishing and shepherding out of reach, his choices are limited.

But today, he’s decided to write Rine a letter.

He has doubts about whether or not it’ll actually reach her; since she’s under their scope and a current possible target, they might block any communication attempts from his part. It’s still worth a try, though, which is why he’s sitting at his desk at all. Right now he isn’t doing much writing – he’s just running his hands across the smooth, unfamiliar wooden surface, wondering how and why they worked all the kinks and hills out of it – but it’ll surely come.

Back in the village, there was no real need to write for most inhabitants. Apart from Rine (often described pridefully as a prodigy by the elders), few could actually read, and less could write by themselves, exceptions being the shopkeepers and higher-ranking farmers who had to keep an eye on stocks and coins. Link has never been good with reading, even though he’s been taught a little, because the words all seem too long and the letters jumble before his eyes; he’s not half bad at writing, though, if you put aside obvious spelling issues no one had bothered to solve.

When writing was necessary, it was done with chalk or small pieces of charcoal. The castle lacks both of these – instead, his desk sports a pretty feather. Zelda will later describe it as a quill. There’s a pot of ink besides it, which Link initially spills all over his fingers before understanding its purpose. He isn’t sure how exactly it’s meant to be used, but dips the feather in it nonetheless and gives the letter a shot.

In his opinion, it’s a success; for the sake of comprehension and clarity it will be presented to you corrected, sparing you a few nonsensical letter jumbles and a great many ink blotches. Thus, here it is :

_Dear Rine,_

_I hope everything is OK at the village and that everyone is healthy. I hope you’re doing alright. I’m sorry if I scared you, and that I never told you about the Triforce. I wanted to keep it a secret._

_The guards took me to Hyrule Castle. I know you dream of being in my place, but you’d hate it. Everything is sparkling clean and everyone walks slowly. I’ve never seen anyone run or laugh. Isn’t that weird ? I met the Queen, too. She says she wants me to become her knight, even though I’d rather be at home, in the village with everyone else. In a few days I’ll have to give her my answer._

_Now that I’m busy here and can’t protect the village, you have to do it for me, okay ? If you see something weird, or feel in danger, follow your instincts. You know, like we practiced in the forest when we went and followed the does. Keep an eye out on the grown-ups while I’m away !_

_Just stay safe. And if you have the time, write back to me soon._

_Tell everyone I miss them._

_See you soon,_

_Link._

It’s ripe with unsaid, but he doesn’t want to worry the poor child. She has a very golden, dreamy vision of the royals and Hyrule Castle than he doesn’t want to destroy, either. Involving her has been bad enough, even though it was accidental – forcing her to watch her back and grow up early would be far worse. He just wants her to stay safe.

Trusting the guards with it would be complete blindness. Link doesn’t want to take the chance, so he writes a note to Zelda explaining where he’d like the letter sent. He has a feeling his wish might be granted by asking her directly; if anything, she’ll do it as a bribe to get him to accept. She was right, though : he’s already made his decision. Putting his village in danger has never crossed his mind. He just needs the rest of his week, to think about thing.

Mostly, to accept his fate.

He writes no more notes, and spends more time outside. He explores deeper into the garden and learns where each turn of its thorny labyrinth leads. A lot of lying in the grass is involved. It’s not a bad few days. He takes as much time as he can to look up into the sky, and wonders if his resolve will be firm enough by his deadline.

As it turns out, it will be.


	6. Chapter 6

“Hero, I am glad to find you’ve seen the light.”

The Queen walks gravely towards the kneeling young man. He is draped in a long blue cape that is spread out behind him in an arc. Sunlight spills over them both, and their hair shines bright and golden.

“Your decision reflects the nobility within you, that shall surely aid you on your way.”

In her hands she holds a glass box, thin and tall. Within it lies a finely crafted blade, blue of handle, its hilt separating at the edge into two wing-like sections. Around it is tied a crimson ribbon, untouched by time nor dust. Her step never wavers, even when the whisper of onlookers and bystanders threatens to break her concentration.

“Look up, Hero, at the blade that shall seal your knighthood – the Master Sword.”

There’s an audible gasp from the galleries, and a murmur rises. The young man’s cape drops down upon his right side, leaving his left untouched, and on his shoulder the Triforce pulses with light. He raises his head and looks at the Queen. His face is still as stone.

The Queen leans down and lets the box rest against the ground. It has no lock nor hinges. Then she takes a quiet step back, and raises a hand high. Her dress is cut just low enough to allow the Triforce to shine as she speaks these few words :

“The sacred blade is yours – it is your birth right. There is no ritual nor charade, for it will recognise you and choose to accept or reject your hold. Remove it from its casket, Hero, and let fate spread its wings.”

There _is_ a ritual, albeit a short one. Customs cannot be avoided completely, even in special cases, and the knight-to-be remains still, head bowed as Hylian priests gather around in and begin to chant. He does not recognise the language, but no one in the room does – the ancient Hyrulean tongues have been lost over time.

Zelda steps closer to him and lowers her voice. The onlookers are too busy amongst themselves to listen in. “I cannot express how relieved I am to see you’ve made the right decision, Link,” she tells him curtly.

He refuses to give her more elaborate an answer than a shrug, believing it is more than she deserves. As they both well knock, his hands are tied behind his back.

She raises an eyebrow, but does not lose her smile. “Well. Whether you see it or not, you _shall_ make a fine hero for Hyrule. I know your scope isn’t quite wide enough as of now to come to terms with it, but– “

The priests cease their chanting before she has the chance to finish. She gives him a small wink before withdrawing to her throne. Standing before it, she watches.

“Withdraw the blade, Hero,” she says.

The priests in a line by her side murmur together. “ _May the Goddesses guide you.”_

 _Oh,_ he thinks, grinding his teeth as he rises to his feet, _they’ve gotten me this far._

They’ve gloved his hands with curious pieces of leather that don’t cover his fingers. He can feel the coldness seeping through the glass. It’s a simple box, with a heavy lid that he lifts carefully and sets on the floor besides it.

The sword itself is a little lacklustre, if he has to be completely honest. In the books they made it out to look much bigger, for one. He finds it soiled with dirt, rust and in some places, bloodstains. The handle is long and fits perfectly in his hand. It is no coincidence.

Frankly, he isn’t sure what’s expected of him. Is he simply supposed to lift it ? The red ribbon lies untouched around the blade, and he decides to pull it away first. It comes without a hitch and flutters to the ground. Fingers wrapped around the hilt of the sword, he slowly rises and pulls it out of its casket. It’s light, quick and sharp. The tingles erupting in his hands travel up to the mark on his shoulder and the light pouring from it becomes blinding – he raises his hand and holds the sword skyward;

the room bursts into applause.

The next few moments will be forever engraved in his mind as a hazy dream. The people rustle in the side lanes, and the nobles converge towards him – there’s noise coming from every part of the room, deafening him all at once. The light from the glass wall before him is bright and blinding, reducing every shape into a colourful blotch. He is tugged, nudged and touched by desperate hands, and it appears to him suddenly that surely, this is a rather big deal, that in his fist is encased the sword of legend and that officially, from now on, his life belongs to Hyrule. The revelation depresses him so much that he lets go of his stance and lets himself be drowned by the crowd. Even in the midst of dozens he can feel Zelda’s eyes on him, hawk-like and warming.

“ _It was a little anticlimactic,_ ” he admits to her later. They’re having sandwiches in the garden, and he’s temporarily traded his anger in for hunger. This time, he doesn’t turn the wine down.

Zelda laughs. “Well, certainly not from the outside. I can assure you that it was quite the outward spectacle. Surely you measured the excitement of your public, when you seized the sword…”

He puts his glass down and shrugs. A part of him feels much better, having gotten it over with. That part of him has also warmed and grown, because it feels more _complete_. So far he’s been ignoring it disdainfully and doesn’t intend to stop doing so. “ _I’m not sure I understand why. I just…lifted a sword. It wasn’t even all that dazzling.”_

“To you, perhaps not. You’ve made clear that you have no faith in our Goddesses – although, I hope, you have no intention of spreading this notion. Correct ?”

_“…”_

“I’ll take your silence as a reluctant yes. You see, our people believe; some have even seen several generations of heroes rise up to protect the land. To them, seeing you, their new hope, lift the sword forged by the Three…it rekindles the fire inside them, erases the fear from their hearts. So, yes, they were quite excited about it, and eager to have a better look at you. I trust you weren’t too overwhelmed…”

“ _I’ve never been more overwhelmed in my life,_ ” he signs grumpily, leaning back against his chair. “ _But I’ll go ahead and assume it’s only gonna get worse from here on.”_

“You are correct in that assumption, I’m afraid.”

Link utters an unheard grumble and goes back to his sandwich. Even when she reaches for something, Zelda’s gaze never leaves his face, and he thinks it’s starting to make him sweat a little. There’s small satisfaction in the fact her eyes have lost their coldness.

“I don’t want to rush you,” she begins, meaning that she is definitely about to, “but I must.” (there it is !) “Today shall be a most busy day… I have much to tell you regarding your mission, although it is a relatively simple task. If it is possible, I’ll have you leave today.”

“ _Today ?_ ” he mouths, and puts his sandwich down. The newly announced rush has tied his stomach into a tight knot, and he finishes his meal quickly enough, leaving the rest of his plate sitting there in the sunlight. It’s a pity. Those were some pretty good sandwiches.

Zelda, who never lets an opportunity slip by, pulls him to his feet and all but drags him back into the building. Her step is hasty and her back very straight – he can guess, in the corner of her eye, a sparkle of excitement. It isn’t much of a surprise when their trip ends on the royal library’s doorstep.

The Queen takes a moment to catch her breath, and retrieves a key from the folds of her dress. The lock turns decisively, and they walk in. This is the first room Link has gone into without a guard at his heal, and he takes a moment to savour it.

Oh, maybe he shouldn’t do it so literally… The air tastes rather dusty.

“It isn’t the most sparkling room in the castle,” Zelda tells him. Her cheeks are a little flushed. “It’s just that servants aren’t allowed in here; just the royal family. Now it’s all mine.”

The library has a higher ceiling than the Audience Room he first visited, arching high above their heads. Link cranes his neck back to see the murals that have been painted onto it, and recognizes constellations he had pointed out to Rine in the past. The whole sky is depicted in vivid accuracy. Were it the night, he might forget he was inside.

The rest of the room is a labyrinth of bookshelves that threatened to brush against the ceiling, fitted with equally tall ladders that made Link feel very small. Across the aisles, glass display cases and plaques are peppered about. Zelda takes him to the very back, and on the way he crosses paths with books written in tongues he didn’t know existed. They all look heavy and old. The spot they stop him has nothing notable, besides a gigantic mirror.

When Link reaches to touch it, Zelda grabs his hand and pulls him back. It’s the first time they touch, and it burns both their fingers.

“My apologies,” she says, letting go. “You shouldn’t touch that, yet. Please take a seat.”

He does; there are velvet chairs gathering dust in the nearest corner. A few vigorous brushes and they’re ready to go. They sit.

Zelda’s calm expression breaks into an anxious smile, which she hides behind her hands. “Oh, this really is quite stressful. I know I probably shouldn’t be saying such things to my Hero, but as you are not a typical knight, I am not a typical queen.” She brushes a lock of hair out of her face hurriedly, frowning at the nuisance. “I am actually excited to speak to you about it, for I’ve researched the matter for years… Let me ask you, Hero : do you know anything of the kingdom called Lorule ?”

Link shakes his head soundly and puts out his bottom lip.

“That is to be expected – the contrary would have been greatly surprising. Information about it is rather fleeting, you see, or particularly vague. Most of the traces were left by historians after one incarnation of the Hero crossed over there and single-handedly saved both Hyrule and Lorule in one swift mission. It’s very unclear –“ Her eyes widen slightly. “I was taking very quickly then, was I not ?”

“ _…you were, a little,_ ” Link admits. “ _It got a bit hard to follow._ ”

She lets out an exasperated sigh and nods. “Sorry. I shall keep myself in check from here on. As I said, it’s very unclear how the Hero reached the kingdom – there are no material vestiges of any doorway or passage, nor object that might have allowed him to be transported there. It’s quite the mystery. What remains, however, is an enormous joined effort from the Hero and his corresponding Princess to open a path towards it. The Hero perished before it was finished, but the Princess had it stored away within the Castle. It’s been there since. The mirror you seemed so eager to touch is, indeed, our sole way into Lorule as of now.”

Link nods, feeling like he has to do _something_ to prove he’s still following her. “ _OK – the mirror takes you to another world. But Lorule…?_ ”

“Yes, of course, I forget. Lorule seems to be some kind of alternate form of Hyrule, identical to it in many ways. The Hero voyaged there to restore its Triforce, so it is safe to assume it functions on a system similar to ours. It has a holder for Courage, Wisdom and Power just like we do, and it’s geography is apparently eerily similar to that of Hyrule. That is why, besides its access point, we call it the mirror world.”

That’s a lot to actually process, and Link sits very still for a moment, eyes reduced to slits in his concentration. To admit the existence of some kind of parallel world… In a kingdom full of magic, it isn’t hard to imagine, but to be faced with it is another matter entirely. He tries to imagine what it would be like, how similar Lorule might be to what he knew. Would every flower be in the same place…?

“Don’t desert me now, Link !” she laughs. Her hand, waving in front of his face, makes him snap back to reality. “Alright, I see you’re back. As you of all people know best, you have no basis in military training. You’ve demonstrated quite incredible brute strength when taking down my men, but being proficient with weapons in close-range combat is another question, that we have no answer to. We’re in a rush, I’m afraid, and I have no time to see you trained in the ways of the sword; therefore, my plan is to send you on a relatively peaceful mission into Lorule.”

“ _So I won’t have to kill anyone…?_ ” Link asks, visibly relieved. His back relaxes against his chair.

“Normally, you should be able to avoid it. Conflicts within Lorule were resolved by the Hero relatively recently – according to the book some three or so cycles ago – so you should not be surprised by any looming threats that might require your attention. All I need you to do is to find the kingdom’s Hero, your counterpart, and request his aid in our cause. They have every right to refuse, of course, but I believe it is worth a try, to protect ourselves from what is to come. In fact, the presence of two wielders of Courage might dissuade the Scourge’s attacks altogether… In any case, this mission is valuable to Hyrule, and a fit first task for its knight.”

“ _Okay,_ ” he agrees immediately, taking both Zelda and himself off-guard. This wasn’t quite what he’d been expecting from her, and for the last few days he’d been preparing himself to draw blood, spill guts and claim lives as Hyrulean knights did. A peaceful mission, with no immediate repercussions on the kingdom’s situation, was a dream come true. Besides kneeling before Goddesses that he felt no love for, his deep and twisting fear had been having his hands tied, forced to cause injury in the name of the _greater good_ , whatever that may be. But no such thing was requested of him, apart from some mild diplomacy. For Rine and his village, he could manage that.

“So, you agree ?” Zelda gives a short little laugh, and lets a smile brighten her stoic face. “That’s a relief. I expected more of a struggle.”

“ _I agree,_ ” he repeats, ignoring her later comment (taking it as a compliment would most likely not go down very well.) “ _When am I leaving ?_ ”

She claps gently, following his enthusiasm. “Well, the plan was to say our temporary farewells this evening. You can spend the rest of the day packing what you need – my guards will be there to aid you, of course. The outfit that you’re wearing is the one I’m sending you off in, so there’s no need to worry about _green._ It’s a slight variation of the Hero’s traditional attire, fit to your tastes, I hope.”

He hasn’t been paying much attention to it, but he has to admit she’s right; it’s so comfortable and suited to him that he’d forgotten he was wearing court clothes at all. The iconic tunic had been shortened to allow better movement and dyed a dark shade of brown; the sleeves have been chopped off, leaving his shoulders – and the Triforce, purposefully – exposed. They’ve covered his arms with long, sleeved gloves and protective gear of matching brown. He’s been handed tall boots and thick tights, and to top it all, a long blue cape that drapes over the left part of his body protectively. It’s all quite harmonious and efficient. He appreciates it.

“ _I should go, then._ ” He stands and dusts off lap, looking up at the Queen for confirmation. She gives him a nod and watches him walk back into the maze of books fondly. The warm atmosphere around her has comfortingly returned.

“Link, wait !” she calls after him, just as he’s turning the first corner. He pivots back towards her, and is faced with a white envelope. He could recognise the handwriting on it anywhere.

“This is for you, I believe. From your home.” She hands it to him and smiles. “It might give you some strength. Good day, Link.”

“ _Good day,”_ he mouths, but his mind is no longer grounded. He stares at Rine’s pretty cursive letters that spell out his name, much more neatly than he even could.

“Link,” the envelope beckons him softly. “Link.”

He managed to stumble back to his room and lock the door.

_Dear Link,_

_Thank you for writing ! Everyone is alright and safe, so you shouldn’t worry. I would run to Hyrule Castle myself to tell you if there was trouble back home. We all miss you a lot, though. All the grown-ups sound very proud of you. They say you’re going to protect us all and make them very proud. I know your mission is very important, and I read all about all the previous heroes in the books we have at home, but I’d still prefer it if you came home soon. It’s selfish though, so I’m wishing you good luck !_

_If you’re going to be Queen Zelda’s knight, I bet you’ll be moving around a lot and won’t be able to write or receive my letters, so I’m going to give you news from home. You haven’t been gone for very long, but there was an outbreak of the cold just after you left. Even my mum was sick ! She made me stay inside and eat a lot of leftover soup, so I didn’t catch it, luckily. When she let me out, I ran up to your house and cleaned up a bit. If you’re worried about your goats and sheep, please know that I’m taking care of them ! Daddy said that we’d watch over the herd while you’re away, and he’s teaching me to milk and sheer ! I’ll show you when you come back. I bet you’ll be proud !_

_I’ll be safe, of course, but I really hope you will be too, Link. You’re going to be in more danger than me. I’ll try not to worry, because I know you’re strong and never lose. I believe in you ! Even if it’s not fun, you’re doing what’s best for everyone. I just wish I could help you out._

_I miss you, and I’m looking forward to seeing you soon. Be careful out there !_

_Write back as soon as you can._

_Love,_

_Rine._

It takes him a while to decipher it entirely. Rine writes well and cleanly, with long sentences that he sometimes has trouble keeping up with, but he takes his time on each word. His reading is slow, scanning over every letter she’s carefully drawn on the page, and it gets difficult by the end, because he’s tired and his eyes are a little wet, but he finishes it eventually. It leaves him a little sore, throat tighter than ever before. He misses home more than ever, but he has to go through with his mission to protect it.

He folds the letter carefully and packs it in his bag. It’ll give him _(courage)_ hope in the times to come, and he wants to keep it close. His weary eyes aren’t perceptive enough to pick it up, much less read it out, but there is a single line, rubbed out hurriedly under the little girl’s name. It says :

_(PS. I don’t want to have to find a new big brother, so don’t die, okay ?)_

By the time he’s wrapped up, the sun has begun to set.

His stay should, theoretically, be a short one, and he’s been instructed to pack only the bare essentials. All he will be carrying to Lorule is a small first-aid kit (fitted with bandages, antiseptic and a sharp needle he hopes he won’t need), a couple of tins of dried rations and three small vials filled with reddish liquid that were to be taken only when he ran out of options. It all fits rather snugly in the leather bag they’ve left him, along with Rine’s letter sitting safely in a small pocket. He swings the strap over his free shoulder, where it joins the Master Sword, sheathed, in inanimate companionship.

He has no trouble leaving his room behind; even given the time, he wouldn’t have gotten attached to it. Its cold tiles ring against the heels of his boots. The sunset gives it a fake warm glow, making it look far more comfortable than it had been. A big and fancy cage is still a cage. He gives it one last sweeping room and closes it behind him.

Ganondorf’s door is shut, of course. They eventually replaced the little plaque with his name, and it shines at him beckoningly from its side of the corridor. He wonders if he should knock, and reassure the man; they had not spoken since their first meeting, nor crossed paths in the castle’s hallways. There is no guaranty that they’ll ever get the chance to in such a peaceful setting, and Link feels tugged towards him, but there’s no light shining from the crack under the door. The Gerudo is out, and Link doesn’t have the time to seek him out.

Nevermind, he tells himself, and the word tastes bitter.

True to himself, he gets lost on the way to the library. To be completely fair, he had only visited it once, and that very day; the opportunities to memorise the route had been slim. Still, knowing it was one of the few rooms with the castle that were actually _signed_ in every corridor, it remained a rather baffling feat. It takes him thirty minutes and three guards to make a trip that would normally last no more than five minutes.

Asking him to find his way to the back and locate the mirror would have been pushing him too far – thankfully, the Queen is standing in front of the library’s large wooden doors, hands tucked gracefully behind her back. By her side are three of the chanting monks from the morning ceremony (wearing the same long dark robes and cooking slowly beneath them like trapped chicken), the knight he recognises as ‘Hal’ from his escort and the castle’s resident Gerudo diplomat. His golden eyes burn holes into Link’s face, and he doesn’t dare meet them.

“There you are, Link,” Zelda smiles. She steps towards him, letting the monks push the doors open. He follows them inside. The library is more menacing, now that the dying sun has begun to cast shadows over each aisle. All six of them walk huddled together, following Zelda’s lead. She alone knows where they’re headed, and which turn they’ll take. For a moment their fate is in her hands – Link summons the _(courage)_ nerve he needs to look at Ganondorf, pacing by his side solemnly. His face looks long and stern, eyes narrow. He senses eyes on him and turns, and they look at each other, sharing their discomfort. It’s the first of their last moments of camaraderie, and Link almost smiles. But they reach their destination too soon, and they turn away from each other to face the mirror.

“ _Is it… glowing ?_ ” he mouths softly. A quick glance is enough to see the rest of their company is just as bewildered as he is. The smooth surface is projecting gently blue light that dances in the air, catching each speck of dust in its wake. His eyes widen very slightly at the entrancing sight, and only Ganondorf’s hand, blocking his way, stops him from walking straight into it in a semi-conscious trance.

Zelda’s face shines with pride she no longer conceals. She turns towards them, and her smile tugs into a grin. “Yes, it does that at night. I must confess I have no idea _why,_ but I believe it has to do with Hyrule and Lorule’s opposition. When the sun sets here, it rises behind the mirror – that is my theory, anyway.” She laughs awkwardly, as though she’d caught herself doing something disgraceful. “In any case, it won’t have any immediate consequences on our plans.”

“ _Speaking of which…_ ” Link scratches the back of his neck. “ _How does it actually work…? Do I just, uh, walk through, or –“_

“Yes,” she says. “That is why I objected to you touching it earlier today. I’ve conducted several small experiments, and it seems that everything that comes it contact with the mirror’s surface is, well, absorbed by it, for lack of a better word. I’ve thrown various objects into it, and none of them looked damaged as they passed though, but I’ve still asked our most experienced knight to sit through this with us, so he might intervene if necessary.”

Hal gives a respectful bow at the praise.

“To you, it should simply feel like walking through a waterfall,” she finished. That he had done, and it reassured Link slightly to find the experience wouldn’t be entirely foreign. All his worries had definitely not been soothed, however, and the thought must have shown on his face, because Ganondorf stepped in shortly and gestured towards him.

“Link still looks troubled. Let him speak his part.”

The Hylian gave him a thankful look and nodded. “ _Well, I… I’m just wondering if you’re one hundred percent sure it’s a two-way ride ? I’m sure Lorule’s a fancy place, but staying stuck…”_ He pauses, scratching his chin lightly. “ _It doesn’t sound so great._ ”

Zelda’s grimace did nothing to calm him. “Actually, that is the biggest issue. We’re not certain. For this reason, I will ask you to step in and once on the other side step out again. If you do not within the next minute or two, we shall have our knight extend a hand to you. He will be able to pull you back out.”

“ _Okay,_ ” he signs flatly, because he has nothing else to say. The clench in his stomach is making a creeping comeback.

“Tell me again what you are to do. Going over it again might help you calm, don’t you think ?”

He shrugs and repeats her orders obediently. “ _Enter Lorule. Locate their Hero and request their help. Bring them back with me to Hyrule, having explained the situation.”_

“Very good,” Zelda smiles. She gives a nod, and he can almost feel the walls close up on him by a few inches.

The monks gather around him and start chanting atonally in their ancient blabber. He only has to endure this for five or so minutes, freed from their grasp when they’re ushered out of the room by Zelda. Hal steps forward decisively and stands by the mirror, very still. Straight like a tree, he is a grounding force of nature that appeases the hero, if only just a little.

It all seems to be happening very fast _(too fast for him)_ and he almost jumps when Zelda reaches for his hand. Her touch is still hot as coals. She weaves their fingers together a moment, long enough to look deep into his eyes and place within them her trust. “Good luck, Link,” she tells him softly. “Be safe, and make your kingdom proud.”

Link nods mutely. His gaze shifts behind her, and he notices Ganondorf smirking at him. The Gerudo shakes his head when Link lifts his free hand – _no, we can’t talk_ – but does a little mock salute. Link smiles back and finds he feels much better.

“Alright.” Hal beckons him over dryly and gestures to the mirror. “In you go, Hero.”

“ _In I go,_ ” he repeats absent-mindedly, a strange feeling of déjà-vu washing over him. He places his palm against the glowing glass and feels the warmth being sucked away from it. He rips it back instinctively and breathes out, before trying again. The mirror feels remarkably like flowing water, and his arm goes in to his elbow.

“Remember,” Hal tells him. “You go in, you step back out. Then you’ll be good to go.”

Fear and anticipation have put him on tantalizing edge, and he knows that if he doesn’t go now, he never will. He braces himself, cringing back, and runs right into the surface, bracing himself for the impact, the smash of delicate glass against his face…

Nothing breaks, and he falls neatly through into the other side.

“ _This is some freaky shit !_ ” are his first words in the kingdom of Lorule. No one can blame him for them, because frankly, it really _is._ The room before him looks nothing like Hyrule’s library. It’s dark, damp and cobbled all over, furnished with heaps of discarded weapons well on the way to rusting. There is only one door, tall, wooden and splintering with age. The windows are thin slits in stone walls, and in through them comes a sliver of fresh sunlight. As Zelda had guessed, it is early morning.

He’s decided to call the room ‘the dungeon’, because it fits all the bullet points one would use to describe one – it even has the heavy chains and thick prison bars. The dungeon clearly hasn’t been used in quite some time, judging by the abundance of moss growing, well, everywhere. When he turns around, he narrowly avoids crushing a snail.

There is no return mirror, as he had expected, rather a strange veil that cut a hole neatly through the bricks. It shines not blue but a warm orange, calling him. Step in, step out again… He goes towards it and pushes the tip of his fingers through. Like a waterfall, he laughs. She’d been quite right.

He walks through the veil and emerges in the library.

Zelda clasps her hands to her chest, sighing her relief. The rest of the room followed suit and relaxed. Hal set his halberd against the wall and wiped the sweat off his face.

Ganondorf’s smirk has not moved an inch. This time Link has one of his own.

“ _No problems getting in or out,_ ” he reports. “ _Although the other room is a bit creepy. Looks like an abandoned prison or something.”_

“Interesting,” Zelda says. “Well, make your way upstairs. You should be in the castle, so speak to any guard you find. If you find yourself locked in or incapacitated, you can always come back through here to safety and we can devise a new plan together.”

“ _OK_ ,” he signs.

Hal raises a hand politely. “Ah, your Highness ? May I make my exit ? I have a squadron waiting for my word downstairs.”

“I need you just a moment longer,” she tells him sweetly. “Stay until Link goes back in, alright ?”

Even his bow is discontent.

“ _I’m going, then.”_ There’s not much else to say, so he nods at the three of them and walks back into the mirror. Damn, is it a strange experience.

“Come back to us soon !” Zelda calls after him, but her voice soon dies out.

Back in the dungeon. Back in Lorule.

Clutching the straps of his bag, he makes for the door.


	7. Chapter 7

The world, according to Hilda, is a minefield.

It hadn’t always been that way, mind you. For twelve years she had looked at the sky above her wide-eyed, curious, brimming with enthusiasm. Her ancestors had predicted knowledge for her, fountains of it, that would come to answer all her pressing questions. Sole heir to the throne in a newly peaceful land, she had grown up with nursery rhymes, stories and songs aplenty. She had been told the tales of their land, of her name, and of the mark that would appear on her when she grew up to earn it. She was Hilda like dozens before her, and dozens after her. She was to be this kingdom’s fair ruler, its light and its justice. She was to bear a piece of the Triforce with pride.

She bore it. The pride, however, never came.

Things had gotten more difficult, as they tend to. Her life had slowly gone from candid to cautious as the years slipped by, and for the last few, secretive. She had learnt to avoid certain questions and claims, dodge accusations, choose her words to satisfy entire rooms. She had had to leave her curiosity behind, and rule the world before her, even if she didn’t understand it.

She has studied the history of her land closely. All the Queens had. History is written to avoid the mistakes of the past. Lorule’s mistake is several centuries old, but it remains a bitter part of its story, in several ways. Splitting the Triforce had not been an inherently harmful decision, and its intention had been to protect, not destroy, but the country in its whole had descended into flames and war. The monarchy was long blamed for this, and was almost overthrown several times, but it had held strong. It had repaired its mistakes.

It had gotten someone else to do it for them, in any case.

The books remain conveniently vague when it comes to this part, but Hilda, like every Hilda before her, has a special weapon at her disposal. It comes in the shape of a very worn out diary with a crimson leather cover. It had belonged to the Hilda alive at the time, the one who restored peace to Lorule. It gave several details relating to the events that transpired that the historians had, indeed, strategically dropped from the scrolls.

This Hilda told the story of Hyrule. Sunny, green and bright, Hyrule was the mirror opposite of Lorule in every way (and the present Queen had been quite amused, when she first flicked through the worn pages, to find a sketch of their Triforce, only flipped upwards). From Hyrule had come a young man, bearing Courage, named Link. He had single-handedly restored the kingdom to its former peace. The old Hilda had confessed, in one shaky paragraph, to the theft of the Hyrulean Triforce in one ill-advised effort to bring health and riches to her people, and had begged wildly her descendants to avoid the same path. Link had come to retrieve what was his, but he helped us all the same. Others may not be so kind.

For a few years, the young Hilda had wondered if her ancestor was barking mad. There were no other traces of his tale, not even hints. She went on to speak of Lorule’s own hero (who bore a name all too familiar to her, of course, because things repeat themselves, don’t they, over and over and over again) and their joint efforts to open a doorway back into Hyrule. This description had been desperate and sad, although she never explicitly explained the reasons behind it. The last few paragraphs of the diary recounted the demise of the hero, whose fierce work had been his death, and finally her declining health. Insane, perhaps. Surely insane.

The only issue with that theory is that Hilda had found the remainders of their attempts. She had found their unfinished doorway, glowing warmly with dedication and regrets. It was in the abandoned right tower of the castle, in the deepest dungeons, undisturbed. She had not found in her the boldness to try touching it, but it had brought her faith.

And now, she could _feel him._

His presence bent the energy lines of the word, perturbed its propagation. He was clogging up its essence and she could almost see his outline, coming up the stairs, coming up to meet her. He had returned.

Link had returned, after three hundred years.

“ _No need to TUG SO HARD !_ ”

Both guards flanking him offered no reaction. The chances they knew sign language were slim at best, so he had decided to spit it in their face as hard as he could. It wasn’t making much of an impression either.

Link, why so foul-mannered ? you ask. Aren’t you on a peaceful, diplomatic mission ? Why oh why are you growling in these fine men’s faces like an enraged rottweiler ?

Here is what happened :

He had pushed the dungeon door open and found stairs spiralling behind it. So far so good, he had thought, and taken the stairs. He had slipped twice down them without major injury – for his defence, the steps were dripping with water and very uneven. He had been giving it his best effort. At the top of these stairs he had hoped to find a corridor or a hallway; instead he had been faced with the open sky. The ceiling of the tower had crumbled away, and there was nothing left of it above his head. Therefore, he had taken the only remaining option and crossed the overpass that led to a very big, very pointy building that he had assumed was the castle.

He had been right, which was both good news and bad news. The good news was the he wasn’t hopelessly lost in a foreign kingdom with barely enough rations for two days. The bad news was that the castle had some pretty nasty looking guards patrolling at the precise moment he reached its façade.

He hadn’t had the time to sign a mere hello; they’d given each other a single, scalding look and grabbed him. Holding one arm each, they had hauled him into the building. And here he was. Wonderful.

Purposefully ignoring him, the tallest of the pair, sporting an ugly sore on his forehead, turns to his partner. “Hey, Joh.”

Said man, plump and fed-up, grimaces at him foully. “Don’t tell the trespasser my name, Newt.”

“Now he knows mine too, you idiot !” Newt stomps, frowning. This makes his face look too small for his head, despite the sore.

“Serves you right.”

“Anyways,” he continues, grinding his teeth. “I was jus’ thinkin’ that this guy a bit strange. Have you ever seen a fella with hair so light ?”

“Maybe he bleached it,” Joh answers shortly. He doesn’t look like much for conversation. “Who cares ?” He pauses, peeking at the crown of Link’s head, and adds : “It _is_ pretty light, though. And I thought Mister Yuga had the lightest hair in Lorule.”

Newt almost skips in his agreement. “Yes ! Yes ! That’s what I mean ! So what if…?”

“What if ?”

“What if…” He lowers his voice and leans in a little. “What if he ain’t from ‘round here ?”

Joh raises an eyebrow. His chin does a little jiggling. “Well if that were the case, we’d have to take him to her Highness.”

“Directly to her Highness ?”

“Better safe than sorry, says I. I’d rather double check than get fired, any day.”

“Damn…” Joh says, pondering it with all his might, which is to say very little.

“Should we turn around n’ bring him to her ?”

“OK.” They both stop in their tracks and pivot. Then they start walking the other way. “It’s a shorter walk anyway… Fuck, this guy is heavier than he looks.”

Link watches the outcome from his spot in their grasp with amusement he can barely conceal.

Her Highness is a beauty in her difference.

Zelda was a looker – only the nobles who had tried their luck at seducing her and failed cared to rebuke this fact, and no one paid much attention to them. She was the standard of beauty in Hyrule kingdom, and paced the fashion with each of her public appearances. With gentle blond air, thin and shiny, that framed a pretty curved face, she looked the spitting image of her oldest ancestor, the Goddess Hylia. There was grace in her smiles and her winks. A glance from her was said to make men and women alike weak in the knees.

Looking at Hilda is difficult. Where Zelda’s features are strong, hers are almost fragile. She has a glass-like quality to her, a statuesque elegance that is unplaceable. Her skin is plain and unmarked by blemishes, her eyelashes long and pale. Her hair, a silky dark purple, curls wildly down her back. Link notices last that her face is the same shape, her lips curve the same curve, her eyes shine in that same sparkling way – she is Lorule’s Zelda, Lorule’s ruler. She is imperious and doleful.

He’s thrown to his knees before her.

She casts him an indecipherable stare, examining him from head to toe. He can feel sweat gathering at the nape of his neck. One of the guards – Newt, wasn’t it ? – is holding his head down, but he can make her out, stepping down from her throne and pacing slowly towards him. He bucks wildly against the guard’s hand, hoping to explain himself even briefly, but she cuts him off before he can even begin.

“Newt, you fool, unhand him immediately !”

Newt jumps back at the sharp mention of his name and gives a deep bow. Hilda’s eyes widen a little.

“My apologies.” She coughs lightly into her hand, and looks up at her guards. “I should not have spoken so sharply. May you leave us alone for a moment, boys ?”

Newt and Joh look at each other, and in one synchronised neck swing, turn back to face her. Link notices with great pleasure that they look like panic-stricken ostriches.

“…with him ?” Joh asks bleakly.

“Yes,” Hilda tells him patiently. “With him.”

There’s a moment of silence, during which all parties exchange a few glances, and finally the shorter guard grabs his partner’s arm and drags him back a few steps. “Then we’ll be showin’ ourselves out, yer Highness. Just give us a shout if you need us, we’ll be standin’ outside.”

She watches them close the Audience Room doors behind them, and her head gives a little shake. “I’m sorry about those two. They’re quite the duo. Not knights quite yet, but currently being mentored by my best lot. They’re…very eager.” She tucks a wild curl behind her ear and smiles at Link. “Oh, please get up. What an indignity.”

He does as asked, and brushes dirt and dust off his knees. “ _You know who I am ?_ ” he asks, signing each word cautiously. Her crimson eyes follow each gesture perfectly, and he can see in them the spark of understanding.

“Yes, of course !” She marks a pause, during which her hands cup her face loosely. She chews on her nails. “Or at least, I believe I do. We shall soon know if my guess is correct, shall we not, Link of Hyrule ?”

His eyebrows fly up. She laughs softly at the expression and waves a dismissive hand. “Do not worry. I wasn’t expecting you… I simply guessed. You were written into our history, long ago.”

“ _So I was told._ ”

She steps back towards her throne, motioning for him to follow. Together they cross the large room, brightly lit by the rising sun. It spreads much wider, the floor covered with intricate tapestries telling epic tales of wars and victories, but the ceiling hangs low. It makes Link feel too tall, an experience he isn’t altogether familiar with.

She sits down and leans back against the cushioned velvet chair. He catches her rubbing her forehead insistently before she addresses him again.

“My name is Hilda, Queen of Lorule. Please tell me about your business here, Hero.”

He hates the title still, but the Triforce shines and itches on his right shoulder, glorious and bare. Curiously, he hasn’t yet located the Queen’s own mark, despite its revealing golden light. Unlike her Hylian counterpart, Hilda wears layer upon layer and little of her skin is left exposed. Her shoulders are covered with a poncho-like fabric, her dress down to the ankles. Long sleeves and pure white gloves complete the outfit. All he can confirm is that it isn’t on her face.

“ _I was sent by the ruler of Hyrule, Queen Zelda, to seek out your help. She would like to request your Hero’s involvement in our troubles._ ” He pauses to look up at her, but her face gives away no secrets. “ _According to our information, Lorule has been peaceful for as long as three hundred years. Hyrule, however…needs to prepare to face an important threat.”_ It’s a lame finish, but he’s never been an orator anyway. He can find no other way to expose their troubles without exposing Ganondorf and directly blaming him; he’s not the superstitious type, but he don’t wanna jinx it regardless. Besides, Ganondorf is his friend – and blaming friends is a no-no, prophecies or not. That is his forest boy philosophy.

“An important threat…” Hilda repeats softly. Her eyebrows are delicately furrowed together. She considers this, and Link watches her tense up, soften, relax. Her mouth is smiling, but her eyes look afflicted. Link guesses that Hilda has been smiling only with her mouth for too long, and that she’s tiring. “We can’t have that, now, can we ?”

“ _It wouldn’t be much,_ ” he adds, mostly to fill the mounting silence. “ _We don’t need military involvement, or anything like that. Zeld– the Queen hopes that the presence of two heroes might help avoid the threat entirely by scaring it off. It’s more of a pressure team up.”_

“A pressure team up.” She seems amused, but only on the outside. She rubs her forehead again. “It could work. And why not attempt it ?”

 _But…_ Link thinks, and waits for it.

“But it would be irresponsible of me to accept right away.”

 _And there it is,_ he sighs, and prepares his counterattack.

“This must seem an unfair and hasty decision, I’m sure, but I assure you that I have thought through all there is to consider. Let me explain it to you. No kingdom is ever safe – you must surely know this. War breaks out increasingly easily as the years go by. Tension is quick to explode. One can never be sure that the neighbouring government will not decide to lay siege upon one’s capital tomorrow. Rulers are always on their toes. It is their duty to be on guard every day, to ensure the total protection of their people. Surely, you… Surely, you understand that I must put my citizens first.”

Her backtracking gives Link, not for the first time, the impression that something is slightly off with Hilda. It makes him greatly uncomfortable because he can’t figure out what the hell it is. She’s frail, but not sick; quiet, but quite sane. She’s polite, graceful and empathetic, as all good queens should be, but there’s something _wrong,_ something _wrong, wrong, wrong…_ He can’t put his finger on it, and it’s maddening.

She starts to speak again, and this time Link gives her his full attention. He watches her face, the smallest twitch of her lips, the most insignificant narrowing of her eyes, and tries to pick up some clues. All he finds, written all over her, is misery. “With my Hero away, we will have no first line of defence. The Triforce is a symbol of alliance and strength, and if one part is absent, discord arises. Do you know why your ancestor was involved in Lorule’s business, Link ?”

He shakes his head. Zelda had been very evasive.

“All of Lorule desired to get their hands on the Triforce, to find it complete, and to make a wish upon it. Infinite riches, wells of pleasure, a kingdom beneath them – you name it. To avoid wars over it, we destroyed it. Split it apart. And it was hellfire. From that day onwards we swore never to let it split again, and to keep all three of its holders close together. Our golden rule is balance, Link, and letting our Hero cross over with you may overturn it completely. I cannot take that risk.”

He tilts his head and watches her fumble for an excuse. Ah, so the usual diplomatic bullshit ? He’ll have to take a detour to avoid it, but it shouldn’t be a difficult one – after all, Hilda already looks on the brink of giving in. He waits patiently for her to finish, and when she does, steps in.

“ _I get that you have to protect your land. It’s pretty much your only job. But, and I’m sorry to bring this up… you owe Hyrule, don’t you ? If history is correct – and it’s worth mentioning that it says the same thing on both sides, by the way –“_ Just a small lie. His hands barely waver. In politics, do as politicians do, right ? “ _– then you’re indebted. It was centuries ago, but we_ did _save your kingdom. My Queen isn’t requesting much, just your Hero’s presence on our side for a while. As far as I was told there aren’t any pressing dangers in Lorule that could prevent him from leaving, right ?_ ”

Hilda’s eyes open wide, set on his face with intense disbelief. He watches her unravel, distraught – she nods, then shakes her head hard, sending curls flying across her face. She lets out a little moan and tears her gaze away from him, focusing on her immaculate gloves, tugging here and there and here again. It’s a disconcerting sight, and Link burns to know what exactly is going on here. What’s causing her such troubles, and preventing her from accepting ?

This has got to be the strangest conversation he has ever had, because they’re not actually talking to each other. It isn’t Hilda pleading him to understand her reasoning, it’s her cover, her persona, the Queen but not the woman. For his part, he’s not responding – he’s pushing her out of hiding. Or trying, because all he seems to be doing is shaking her. And she _does_ shake, with surprising ease. But she doesn’t come out. There’s something there, something holding her back, a sword above her neck ready to fall down and do its nasty business.

He won’t get anywhere like this.

“It’s true that we owe you greatly,” she says, and the sound of her voice makes him jump. “You have done much for us, and without your involvement Lorule would no doubt lie in ruins.”

 _But…_ Link thinks again, and braces himself for the second blow.

“Therefore, you should go speak directly to the Hero.”

“ _Really ?_ ” he signs before he can stop himself. He almost wants to take it back, as though the simple gesture might make Hilda take it all back.

“Go,” she tells him, and she sounds very tired. She leans back against her throne and points out a large door, standing to her right. “Talk to him. That is what you were sent to do, was it not ?”

He nods slowly under her watch, and gives a slight bow. The smile she gives him back makes her look much older. Then she closes her eyes and leans her forehead against her palm and Link knows that he and the rest of the world are now invisible to her. He retreats quietly and makes for the door.

Hilda _feels_ him go like she _felt_ him come, and vanish from the room. The lights dancing before her eyes return to their natural state. Everything dims slowly, and curves find themselves whole again. Order has been temporarily restored.

Oh, how he _shines…_ She knows only one person quite so bright, so blinding, and she has not seen him for a long time.

Behind the door is a corridor. Link prepares to get hopelessly lost, but soon finds that it has only one door. The wallpaper is crimson, streaked with purple horizontal lines that point him onwards, and from the ceiling hang little candles in metal trays. It’s both charming and ominous.

The door at the end of the corridor is plain and small. It has no locks nor decorations, but a quick inspection reveals it’s been carefully sanded down. Its wood is dark and smooth, and it bears no plaque, indication, nor banners. The only addition to it is the marble doorknob, that Link turns slowly.

Maybe he should have knocked, he thinks, too late – the door is already halfway pushed in. The tall figure behind it pivots to face him. It gives him a wild smile and beckons him inside.

The figure is a man that towers over him. The man is a little older than the holders Link has encountered so far, but his eyes glimmer charmingly and the years almost seem to slip off him. His hair, a deep ginger that reminds him of Rine’s mother, is pulled back into several small unruly braids. Like Hilda, he is pale, his skin nearly translucent enough for Link to see his veins. His Triforce shines in plain sight on his neck. When he looks at it, the Hylian feels a strong spark.

The man feels it too, and one of his gloved hands covers up the mark to scratch at it. He has particularly long fingers. He laughs softly when he realises what he’s doing, a low rumbling sound that almost makes Link jump. A wave of his hand shuts the door behind him, and he pulls up a chair.

“Hello, Hero,” he says. “Would you like to sit down ?”

Link sits down.

And as soon as he does, he _knows, that_

The world, according to Yuga, is nothing but valleys of damp clay, waiting for his fingerprints.

The man carries it in his eyes, and in each and every one of his moves. The very tremble of his fingers projects imperialism that Link can compare to nothing he knows. His irises widen and narrow, and with each change in pace comes grander satisfaction. Yuga is a man whose life is full of opportunities, and he is ready to seize them by the neck. He is cool, composed and full of hatred.

Yuga is a snake.

They look at each other with cold suspicion; Link, settled in his chair and relaxed as ever, legs spread out before him defiantly, and Yuga standing before him tall and serene, not an ounce of worry in his gaze. Identical marks are branded into their skin, but they don’t need to speak to realise they are as different as night and day. They dance, both very still, side-stepping away from the other. Where Link is hot and blazing, Yuga is ice-cold. Neither of them is doing much to hide this fact, and Link is convinced that Yuga had been expecting him. He had made himself perfectly transparent from the beginning, and even though Hyrule and Lorule were opposites in every way, he hadn’t expected him to be this much of a _bastard._

Yuga’s eyes are crimson, not unlike Hilda’s, and they won’t move away from his face. Link, for his part, has done all the sizing up he needed of his counterpart, and had found out all he had sought out. His face and morals are sharp in all the wrong places. He wonders briefly how it’s possible – to project such a blasting image of yourself – but inside he knows. The Triforce sees all, and you can’t hide away from it.

“ _Hello,_ ” he waves, smiling his most disgusting smile.

Yuga mimics it flawlessly, an effort that makes his skin stretch just a little tighter against his cheekbones. The glimmer fades a little. “Hello,” he repeats very faintly. The word seems to echo on his lips for a while longer, before he finds the right ones to continue. “So you’re the little Hylian they wrote about so long ago. Pleasure to meet you. A pleasure I say.”

“ _Oh, same here.”_

It is a pleasure for neither of them.

Yuga makes quite the show of parting his hair away from his neck, and the Triforce comes back into view. It hits Link’s eye like a sore. “From what I heard of your discussion with dear Hildie, you’ve been sent to seek my help, have you not ?”

Link’s eyes narrow imperceptibly. The man smiling complacently at him from the other side of the room is speaking grace, sweating dishonesty, and he’s doing it on purpose. “ _Dunno,_ ” he signs carelessly, and inspects the state of his nails intently. For the record, they are filthy.

“You don’t know ?” Yuga almost frowns. Almost. Instead his thin lips spread into a thin smile. “I certainly thought… Well, it does not matter. Hildie sent you to me, to have a conversation relating to your kingdom. Is that so ?”

“ _Maybe._ ”

This time the man lets out a sharp sigh, which he immediately swallows back gallantly. Link, still spread out ridiculously on his host’s little wooden chair, grins at him wildly.

“What _can_ you tell me, Hero ?”

“ _Nothing of interest,_ ” he pouts, and he can almost pinpoint the exact moment Yuga’s temper snaps. It makes a tiny ripping sound, like a fraying knot at the end of its struggles, that his ears unfortunately miss.

He still has the satisfaction of watching two red dots appear on the man’s cheeks. His eyes are wide, foul and very red. There’s a small tremor in his fingers, and one of his nails scratches an ugly line across the Triforce on his skin. He strains to remove his lips from their twisted lock, and even then his voice is thin.

“It seems you’re playing childish games. I would have thought such things beyond you, but clearly you’re still at the crawling stage of your existence. I’m surprised to see so little mud on your knees.”

 _Hello, Yuga,_ Link thinks as he jumps to his feet. _There you were, you son of a bitch._ He extends a hand and smiles. “ _Ah, hello. My name is Link. Nice to see who was hiding behind all that white powder and bullshit.”_

Yuga doesn’t shake his hand. He regards it with apathetic disgust, much the same way he now regards Link. His mouth opens once or twice, revealing sharp and gleaming teeth, but nothing comes of it.

“ _Sorry, I just thought we should have a little heart-to-heart conversation. Get to know each other better._ ” Hand untouched, he falls back onto his chair with an undignified thump that very much fits the mood. “ _I could hear you through your Queen, and the very small cracks in your makeup, but it was all kind of muffled, I’m afraid.”_

“You seem to have a strange vision of what a _diplomatic mission_ is,” Yuga spits. “Insulting your host is not high up on the list of niceties.”

“ _Ehh,”_ Link mouths. “ _I was sent to get the job done, not make friends with everyone. Not that I would want to be your friend in any situation.”_

Under his gaze, Yuga changes. The outside shifts just enough to match the inside a little more snuggly. His eyelids droop and his cheekbones rise, giving him something of a birdish look – his self-satisfies smile melts into an irritated grimace. He curls and uncurls his fingers, licking his lips like he’d tasted something foul, and finally let his shoulders curve nastily. Altogether, he looks twisted and mean, and it reminds Link of an old nursery rhyme : _the crooked man lives in his crooked house…_

“I know you’re not here of your own free will,” Yuga sneers. “I know you were threatened. I know you’ve got things on the line here. I can make things very difficult for you.”

“ _Yes, yes, yes… I get it. You like twisting people to your liking. Y’know, when I walked into the throne room and looked at Hil… um, Hilda, right ? I saw her trembling and all sorts. Not surprising, considering the number of strings you’re pulling behind her. You tried to intimidate me too, right from the start, but I’m not interested in playing cat and mouse.”_

“I wouldn’t call it cat and mouse. It’s more similar to, let’s say, lion and rat.”

“ _Charming,”_ Link whistles, and shakes his head. “ _Frankly I’m not too sure what your intentions are here. Are you trying to ruin my mission just out of principle ? Following the Asshole Code, perhaps ?”_

Yuga’s eyes sparkle with amusement. “Insult me all you want,” he says, “but the situation will not change. I wanted to show you a little of myself, and be polite and courteous – something that you yourself are not capable of, clearly. I’ll admit I was expecting you to be a babyish idiot, blubbering and begging at my feet, but this outcome isn’t entirely unfavourable.”

“ _So you were trying to crush my morale. Unsuccessfully, clearly.”_

“Call it what you want; I prefer the term ‘warning.’ I am not a pleasant man when you strike my nerves, and you have gone out of your way to do so anyways. Quite curious.”

“ _It’s more fun that way._ ”

“Fun or not, we’re still standing here together and your kingdom still needs its help, correct ? You’ve come looking for the holder of Courage. That, as you can plainly see, is me. But I don’t particularly intend to give any help, unless it’s well worth my time.”

He sends a few braids flying out of his face, and his smile glistens with that same disgusting sense of superiority as he’d first shown Link. “As you have surely guessed, I answer to no one. In fact, most of Lorule answers to _me,_ thanks to an extremely fortunate train of events that occurred some seven years ago. We could have had a pleasant conversation about it all, but it’s too late for that, I’m afraid. You’re in some trouble, little Hero.”

Yes, Link thinks, actually he is. Looking at the situation objectively, he’s just rammed his head into a wall. Direct orders from above were to find whoever held Lorule’s Triforce of Courage and bring them over – undeniably, that was Yuga. Birthmarks don’t lie. But there’s something wrong, something shifty again, and the feeling of misplacement he’d felt in the throne room washes over him once again. His toes tingle. Looking at Hilda and Yuga is like looking through a broken mirror. There’s still something he’s not seeing. Is there a possibility that he’s come to the wrong person…?

“ _You think you’re untouchable,_ ” he begins, and he can already feel the sweat run down the nape of his neck. He has no idea what he’s doing, but if he’s been able to bluff half his life, he can probably push himself a little further. “ _You have a nice mark there and everything, but you’re too much of a dick to really be who I’m looking for.”_

He scans over Yuga keenly, but there’s no change in his expression. It isn’t necessarily bad news.

“ _Hilda wasn’t keen on me going to you at first. Wonder why ? If I had to guess, it’s because there’s some kind of big secret you two are sharing.”_ And boy, is he grasping at straws. “ _Curious as to what would happen if I could prove that ?”_

Yuga is reserved and mute. Link feels his lips twist in a glimpse of panic, and bites it back violently. He’s clearly onto something, he _is,_ but what in the world…?

The man watches him for a few more seconds before his lips part to unleash the ugliest laugh Link has ever heard. It’s guttural and filthy, reverberating around the room with brutal force. His head snaps backwards with each chuckle he forces out, his neck bobbing back and forward eclectically – Link has hope, for a second, that it might snap, but Yuga steps forwards. His eyes are glistening.

“You’re a funny little boy,” Yuga says, advancing towards him with predatorial slowness. “Funny indeed. What did you think you would achieve ? You have nothing on me, boy, nothing ! Nothing but a dull little sense of instinct and faulty confidence !”

Link scrambles out of his chair and begins to backtrack. It’s promptly kicked out of the way and sent flying across the room. The smash and splinters make him jump, and the soft of his elbow bumps into the sheath on his back, making his arm go dull.

“We could have struck a deal, you know. We could have compromised. There are always ways to get me on one’s side… But you have made a very bad decision in disrespecting me, boy !”

It’s a little late, but Link finally realises that Yuga is quite mad. This means two things : one, that there had never been any use in conversing with him and two, that there was quite a big chance he would have no qualms in killing him right there. His instincts kick in and he grasps blindly for the Master Sword’s handle, shimmying it out of its cover, but Yuga is almost too close already, and the blade is nearly dropped.

Dropped…!

Running on blind intuition alone, Link grabs the sword with two hands and throws it at Yuga’s chest. The man catches it with ease, smirking crookedly at him – his hands wrap around the hilt.

With a scream, he drops it straight onto the tiles, where it rings and rings and rings in their ears.

Link scurries over to retrieve it, and finds Yuga on his knees, howling gently into his cupped hands. His nose is scrunched up, face contorted with pain : his fingers are covered in warts and burns, bulging and ready to burst. A fingernail has been burnt right off.

“ _Not the Hero, then,_ ” he mouths calmly. He steps away from the wailing man, keeping a close eye on him until his hand wraps around the doorknob. No – Yuga makes no more attempts to intimidate him. Their introductions were short-lived, but he has no doubt in the fact they’ll cross paths again. He could not look forward to it less.

The sword in his hand feels lighter than before, and once more he feels a part of him buzz with the pleasure of simply holding it, watching it gleam under the sunlight. Although he has no idea how to wield it, it has saved his life. He’ll treat it with more respect from now onwards.

“ _Not the Hero,_ ” he repeats thoughtfully, closing the small door behind him. When he reaches the end of the corridor, he can still hear him weeping. “ _Not who I’m looking for. Hm.”_

Hilda is already waiting for him. She stands by her throne, still as a statue, her lips tilted into an unhappy smile. He is beckoned over, and joins her. Only then does it occur to him that the Master Sword is still at his fist, threatening and cool. He sheathes it silently. Its presence has already told her enough about how his interview went down.

“ _I need a word,_ ” he tells her.

She looks at him miserably and nods.

“I know.”


	8. Chapter 8

“Things were not always this way.”

Lorule Castle has a garden that would put Zelda’s to shame. Purple tiles have been laid down to form a glistening path, overgrown here and there with perky flowers. The walls of the castle are barely visible under all the green vines that have twirled and settled against the cold stone. The hedges are tall and majestic – Link spots a few, besides the main gates, that have been carefully trimmed to look like animals. He likes the lion one particularly. There are marble benches in the greenest corners, and every turn offers its own peaceful twist. With tall trees, all bearing foreign-looking fruit, as a final touch, the garden nearly looks like a park. Link instantly feels right at home there.

The fresh air seems to have helped Hilda relax, as well. The rooms and their tall ceilings had choked both of them up too much for a proper discussion. She had led him outside, eyes still shining sadly, into the flower patches that surrounded her castle; now she looks much better. She is gradually losing the glass-like, statuesque look that had made her look so lifeless. Her shoulders straighten and her walk becomes brisk – it’s as though someone had taken a terrible weight off her shoulders.

As it is, she is much more disposed to talk.

“What do you think of Lorule, Link ? I know you haven’t seen much of it, of course, but surely you have a few first-hand impressions.”

He considers this a moment. “ _It’s a beautiful place,_ ” he signs at last. It isn’t flattery or boot-licking – from what he has seen so far (the gardens, and the castle’s surroundings that he’d had the chance to make out briefly while he walked the overpass that had led him into Newt and Joh’s comical grasp), Lorule is a thriving kingdom. Everything as far as his eyes can see is green and bright under the morning sun.

Hilda sighs very softly. “I have to agree. We do have a blossoming wildlife, and much to be thankful for. Our skies are blue and our sunsets the most breath-taking of sights. In the last few centuries, Lorule has flourished – thanks to the help of your predecessor, mostly.” She smiles at him. “A lot of rebuilding was necessary, but we have achieved something great. Our citizens are finally safe and mostly content. I myself have not done much, simply because there was not much to do : I inherited a peaceful and happy kingdom, and my job was to keep it that way. Complications arose, as they always do, I expect.”

“ _Yuga ?_ ” he asks. The taboo over his name has vanished. Hilda shows unrestrained distaste at his mention, and nearly sticks her tongue out.

“Yes, that snake, amongst other things. I was brought up with Lorule’s interest at heart, but Yuga was a noble boy, taught in the ways of noble men – that is to say, crush everyone above you until you’re standing tall overlooking it all. He has always wanted more than what he earned. I didn’t want you involved with him, for obvious reasons, but perhaps it was best you got to meet him. I expect he tried to intimidate you as soon as you walked in ?”

Link scowls and makes a somewhat rude gesture with his hands. “ _He did. Not a nice guy. Also raving mad.”_

“I cannot disprove that claim; he has been spiralling downwards, during these last few months. He wasn’t charming in the first place, but it has all seemed to get much worse. He’s been manipulating everyone with frenzy – my empty court is his doing. He thinks he has sufficient leverage and title to bring me down to do his dirty work. After all, he _does_ have the Triforce of Courage stamped onto his neck. I was reluctant to tell you, Link, but I think that it is essential to your mission at this point. What Yuga has been using against me…is this.”

With a flourish, she seizes the tip of her left glove between her thumb and index and pulls it off. The white fabric flashes past Link’s eyes and reveals the shining back of her palm. On her skin, pulsating gently, the Triforce of Power is engrained.

“ _Huh,_ ” he mutters. Then the gears in his head begin to clank into motion, and he nearly jumps with shock. “ _Huh ?!”_

The Queen laughs, and her head jingles a little. Her curls bob around her head prettily. Another of her shackles has been unlocked, and a little more of herself pours out. Her warmth almost makes his forget his surprise. Almost.

“ _Now, uh, I don’t know how to say it without sounding rude, but –“_

“Wrong Triforce ?” she suggests. “Mix-up ? Mistake ? Historical inaccuracy, if you want to be particularly meticulous.”

“ _…Right,”_ he agrees vaguely.

“All of those terms would be correct, as it turns out. Come, let us walk and talk a little about it.”

Link follows her, but it’s clear from his jittery walk that he’s having trouble both processing the information and using his motor cortex at once. Power was the mark of looming evil, and control. Power was the mark of threat. Time and time again power had been the mark of destruction. Power was the very reason Ganondorf was being kept practically locked up in his room, under constant suspicion. And yet here stands Hilda, fingers curling around the stem of a vividly crimson flower, the frail and gentle ruler of her kingdom, with that same mark on the back of her hand. If such a fact were to come out, superstition and fear would congregate into some kind of civil war.

“ _You have the wrong mark. So he’s threatening to reveal it to everyone if you don’t do what he wants ?”_

“That is the gist of it. Quite well summarised. There’s more to it, of course, but that is the ground on which the rest of his lies were built. Yuga’s well groomed and happy about his mark, of course. It was the last thing we’d all expected.”

“ _Could I please hear about it ?_ ” His gestures become a little more cautious. He’s overly aware of his curiosity, threatening to overthrow his goal. That alone could cost people their lives.

The Queen, however, sees no wrong in it; her face is honest and fair when she turns to Link and nods. She leads him to a small bench hidden behind the hedge. There are only birds and bugs close enough to overhear them.

Hilda crosses her hands in her lap. “I’m not too sure where to start. What was it like for you, realising you carried part of the Triforce ? Traditions may differ, and I’d rather not explain something that doesn’t need explaining.”

“ _I don’t know._ ” This isn’t something he enjoys talking about. “ _Quite a shock, I guess. It appeared on my arm when I turned twelve.”_

“From the look of it, it wasn’t a pleasant surprise.” Her fingers brush carefully against his bare shoulder. Pale scars have left dents in his skin bellow the Triforce; unsuccessful attempts at dislodging it. Suddenly self-conscious, he tries to tug his cloak over it. Hilda withdraws her hand. “I’m sorry if I brought back unpleasant memories.”

He shrugs – did it matter ? “ _It’s alright. It was a long while ago.”_

“None of us Lorulean holders had to face the same shock, and it’s something I’m grateful for.” She traces the upside-down triangle on the back of her hand with the tip of her finger. “As you can guess, fate had its own twist ready for us, but we were initially prepared to receive our pieces. It had become, by the time I was born, common to hold strict and regular registers, logging births and deaths. Through these, the current rulers were able to trace down each new incarnation of holders and raise them in a fitting way. We always have the same name, so it wasn’t much trouble.”

“ _I was traced too,”_ he puts in. “ _Only seven years after the mark appeared._ ”

“It is much unfortunate… And it is to avoid such unpleasant situations that Lorule was organised that way. I, of royal blood, was named Hilda and taught that the earth held knowledge that would heighten my senses and make me the ruler my people deserved. Yuga, for whom destiny had reserved war and destruction in the past, was counselled from early childhood to control himself – I’m not sure it had an altogether positive effect on him, truthfully. The child bearing the name of Lorule’s hero was trained by our finest knights to wield any weapon at his disposal. He was never much good at it, but he always did his best. We all had big shoes to fill, as you can guess.”

“ _What happened to him ?_ _The boy with the Hero’s name ?_ ”

Hilda doesn’t hear him, or decides not to. She gives a tinkly little laugh that rings sadly in the air. “As it turned out, the shoes we had tried so long to step into were the wrong ones. On our twelfth birthdays, the marks appeared and caused general disruptions so great that the castle guests were all evacuated for over three days – enough time for my parents and their council to figure something out. When those three days came to an end, the usually subdued and falsely soft-spoken Yuga had fallen out of his disciplined role and risen above it, showing off the symbol on his neck with greed. For my part, I had a lovely new set of gloves that covered my mark and strict instructions never to take them off in public. For a twelve year old, this was…quite the shock.”

 _The boy,_ Link wants to press, but he knows it’ll get him nowhere. He sits back and listens.

“The apparent swap caused a great deal of confusion that lasted as long as a year. That is how long it took Yuga to fully realise how much authority the Triforce of Courage gave him and what he could do with it. Thanks to my parents’ quick cover-up, no one else was made aware of my lack of apparent wisdom. The only people who knew were Yuga, the third holder and them. It was assumed that he had wound up with Power in Yuga’s place, and he fled the castle for both our sakes. They searched extensively for him, of course, but never found him. He was still rather high-up on the list of national threats when my parents died; I’ve made sure since then that he is left in peace.” A sad smiles perturbs her calm demeanour. “Before you ask, I don’t know where he is. You’ll be planning to go after _him_ , I suppose.”

“ _Well I definitely can’t bring Yuga with me,_ ” he tries to joke, but neither of them finds it amusing. “ _But I do need someone. It’s a very important job._ ”

“For you, I’m sure,” Hilda says. “You’re clearly carrying quite the burden. I won’t ask about it, though – I’m sure you have your reasons not to share it with me, Mr. Diplomat.”

They share a short-lived smile at the nickname. The conversation could well have ended there – and such a thing would have been most preferable for Hilda – but Link needs more answers. He gives her a moment to compose herself before intruding a little more.

“ _Will you help me ? Find him, I mean. I’m not expecting you to lead me by the hand to wherever he’s hiding, but Lorule isn’t my home. Even if I dedicated my whole life to it, I couldn’t find a stranger in a foreign land.”_

Her hands twist a little in her lap. She looks up at him uneasily. “There isn’t much I can tell you. I haven’t seen him in seven years. But I will do my best to be of assistance to you, Link. Lorule still owes you a debt. And,” she adds, “perhaps bringing him home might benefit our kingdom as well.”

“ _That’s all I’m asking for,_ ” he presses. “ _Just some clues. Who am I looking out for ? What’s his name ?”_

Hilda, for the first time, gives him a grin – not a smile, nor a wider smirk, but a genuine grin that takes him right off guard. Talk of her childhood friend makes her look younger. “His name,” she says, “is Ravio. And if he’s anything like I remember, he’ll take some serious convincing to come with you.”

“ _Stubborn ?_ ” Link hazards, grinning as well. Her good mood is both good news and infectious.

“Oh, very.” She shakes her head fondly. “An idiot, really. Do I look anything like Queen Zelda, Link ?”

Taken aback by the new line of questioning, he looks at her dumbly for a moment. “ _Yes ? A little. Well, you have similar faces… The same eyes, too. I guess that…?”_

“I had guessed so,” she cheers, saving him from his hopeless scrambling. “You see, Ravio looks just like you, too. You have the exact same grin. He’ll be hard to miss. His hair is purple, and always messy – you’ll know him when you see him for sure.”

“ _He looks like me ?_ ” One of his hands creeps up unconsciously and touches his face.

“Oh, yes. You two could be brothers. His complexion is much darker, though – you might not believe it from Yuga and I, but it’s the case for most Loruleans.”

“ _OK._ ” He neatly records the information for later use. “ _I don’t know if you can answer this one, but do you have any idea in which area he might be ? If Lorule is anything like Hyrule, it’ll take years to search the whole territory…”_

Hilda pats his shoulder lightly. “Don’t be discouraged ! As I told you before, no one from the castle knows where he went. You should start off by questioning the villagers that live around the castle – they’ve known him since his birth, so they might have some clues for you. Other than that… well, I’d be guessing, but I could offer some tips.”

She stands and wraps a keen hand around his forearm, pulling him to his feet. “The centrepiece of this garden is a lovely work of art by our top gardener. He put years of work into making it, and luckily for you, it looks best in spring. Look !”

They turn around the nearest hedge, where the greenery recedes into a large clearing. In the very centre, covered by a thin glass case that glistens under the sun, is an intricate flower combination of every colour he’s ever set his eye on. The plants twist and coordinate each other so well that lines begin to appear : the more he stares, the clearer it becomes.

“It’s a map of Lorule,” Hilda says. She’s standing at his shoulder, righteous in her pride. “A mighty detailed one, at that. Here,” she points at the central flower, a wild and spiralling rose that overlooks its neighbours, “is the Castle. It’s an artistic rendition, but it’s accurate. I can use it to show you whereabout Ravio may be.”

“ _It’s wonderful,_ ” he mouths. His fingers brush against the glass shyly. The display is so _delicate…_

“Indeed it is. But I must have your full attention, now, hero.”

He apologises with a nod and leans in besides her.

“Very well. The area around the central rose is Castle Town. A lovely place, currently thriving. This is the best season for commerce, so there’ll be plenty of people out in the streets. I won’t promise you won’t get any strange looks – your hair is unbelievably light, you know ! – but you should be able to dig something up. I recommend the alchemists and engineering workshops; he spent quite some time there. I’ll give you a more transportable map, but keep those in mind for now.

Beyond Castle Town, you’ll find mostly valleys. Lorule is schematically divided into four major parts : our swamps, our mountains, our woods and our plains.”

She points to each of the areas in turn. Link tries to ingrain it into his brain.

“The swamps and mountains are things of great beauty, and our main tourist attractions at this time of the year. They say our waterfalls are bewitching.” Her lips twitch into a smile. “However, I doubt you’ll have much time for sightseeing. You should steer clear of those – Ravio never was one to like grand open spaces.”

“ _The woods, then ?_ ”

“Oh, no. I’d keep well away from any body of trees you can’t see right through. The woods are dangerous. They’re situated in the east, and always dark no matter the time of the day. We’ve sent teams to scout them, and the results were not beneficial. We mostly leave them be.”

They share a collective shiver.

“ _So the plains are where most people live ?_ ” He points to the pretty cluster of daisies to the west of the castle. “ _And it’s likely he’ll be there too.”_

Hilda nods. “It’s where most of our population congregates. People live in every part of Lorule, with different customs and traditions, but Ravio was born and raised in Castle Town. He would have run somewhere familiar, at least to start with. If you want to tail him, you’ll have to travel to the main towns situated in the closest plains.”

Big towns. Close plains. He closes his eyes and feels a headache coming on.

“ _You seem mightily enthusiastic,_ ” he comments, reaching up to rub his temples. Her change of pace is hard to follow.

She flushes a bright red and coughs into her hand – her eyes close a moment and open calmer. He’s briefly reminded of Zelda’s own similar state, when she’d begun rambling. Did they share personality traits, as well as appearance ?

If so, poor Ravio.

“I’m sorry,” she tells him. “I got a little excited. I haven’t been able to even mention his name for quite some years, and I would be lying if I said I haven’t been missing him the whole time. The idea of finding him, well… it makes me feels like a child again. You’ll have to accept my apologies.”

Cheeks a normal colour again, she claps her hands once and smiles. “Well, I think that’s all I can tell you. I shall get you a map and mark your route on it for you. Our cartographer is a skilled and efficient man, I assure you it shan’t take very long. In the meantime, you’re welcome to enjoy my humble hospitality until you’re ready to leave.”

Hilda was not joking. Link only spends one night in Lorule Castle, and when he wakes up the map has already been sealed in a pretty envelope and slipped under his door.

It’s accompanied by a smaller letter, written on a hardback piece of parchment that slips out of the envelope when he tips it down over his bed. In an elegant – and clearly royal – scrawl, the note begs him to accept Hilda’s deepest apologies for her absence at breakfast. She has a series of important meetings to attend to regarding a series of fires in the western towns, and will not be able to greet him. She hopes, the note finishes, that he will be there at lunch, so that she may bid him farewell and wish him luck on his journey.

In a smaller addition, at the very bottom, she admits that she will be in no way offended to find him gone at that time, and that she gives him, through this letter, her blessings.

Link is glad they understand each other. Lorule Castle is a lovely place, but he has no time to waste sitting around looking pretty and admiring the rooms. He’s grateful that Hilda is a practical as he is, and almost sorry he won’t be able to thank her. Perhaps he should send a letter to her when he finds the lost hero. He vows to do so.

On his way out, he passes Newt and Joh, who salute as soon as they see him approach. A comically unbalanced duo, they stand tall and short on either side of the door leading to Yuga’s rooms. Whether they’re guarding Yuga from onlookers or the other way around remains a mystery, but Link can guess.

“You have a safe trip, mister!” one of them calls, straining to reach him. He gives them a thumbs up as he leaves, causing their bubbling gossip to restart.

Question the inhabitants of Castle Tower. He can hear the soft buzz of village life as soon as he walks out onto the castle’s steps. Beyond the grey gates, colours flash left and right. Music makes his ears twitch. Question some, not all of them, or he would be at it for weeks – he’d have to be selective about it. Down the stairs he goes, one cautious step at a time. Briefly he wonders why there are so many of them. Asking the children about someone who’d fled seven years ago would be useless; he ought to start with the elders. Finally he pushes one of the gate doors until it creeks open onto the town plaza.

“Bread, mister ! Still warm, right outta the oven ! Get a loaf for twelve rupees, sir, twelve ! Whole wheat it is, sir !”

A small child brandishing a wooden tray twice as wide as he looks nearly trips him up. Sensing his misstep, he scurries away into the crowd with stunning speed, considering his armful. Link comes back to his senses to find that not an inch of the cobbled square is left unattended : Castle Town is bustling with life from every side.

The music he had heard on the way down comes from a violinist, sitting on a wooden crate with his back against the wall. Around him a small group has formed and twirls in time with each note. Children follow the beat with little sticks that they bump together merrily. From the happy commotion come laughs and cries : joy here is infectious and spares no one.

The merchants squatted behind their stocks look equally as cheerful and shout out their prices and offers in loud sing-song tones that only add to the ambience. There’s fruit he has never seen, and vegetables bearing vividly bright colours; sweet treats and alluring smells that called for him to follow them to the source. A little girl runs right into his leg and gets up with a giggle, and he realises that he feels at home.

“Fancy a madeleine, sir ?” a man calls out, waltzing his way to his side. He’s balancing a tray of little pastries on his forearm. Link can feel his mouth water – there are little berries sticking out of the batter. “Five rupees’ll get you one. You get five for twenty, mind you.”

“ _…I’ll take five,_ ” he tells the man, feeling both faintly defeated and satisfied. He fishes into his bag for the five hundred or so Zelda has provided and selects the closest red one. Here’s to praying Lorule’s rupees are the same as his own. “ _You take these ?_ ”

“What else would we take, sir ?” The man laughs and tilts his tray. Link selects five and stacks them in his bag. “You’re not familiar with the town, I see. A tourist or a traveller, perhaps ?”

“ _A traveller.”_ He gives the man a quick look and adds : “ _I’m actually looking for someone.”_

The salesman gives him a curious nod, so he unfolds his map and holds it out to him. “ _The person I’m trying to find probably lived around here for a while some seven years ago. Hung around the engineers mostly. I know they’re situated around here,”_ (he points at one of the town areas, circled in red) “ _but I’m not entirely sure how to get there._ ”

“I see.” He leans over the map and traces out a route from its bottom right edge to the top. “It’s quite a straightforward route as long as you stick to the main streets. We have a lot of tiny passageways around here.” He scratches the back of his head thoughtfully. “I haven’t been livin’ here more than five years, sir, so I can’t really help more than that. You should go talk to our elders !” Out of his breast pocket emerges a piece of coal. He marks a large X in the upper middle of the map. “There you go. I hope they can help you find your friend, sir.”

Link nods his head and offers the man another red rupee. It disappears into his pocket. “ _No, thank_ you. _I’d have gotten lost by myself.”_

“It’s no trouble sir, no trouble at all. Good luck with your search, sir !”

The man spins on his heels and disappears back into the crowd to preach his goods. Link retreats back into the more uncongested areas and perches himself on the edge of a nearby fountain – he lets his first bite of madeleine melt on his tongue and plots his next move.

Well, he has a direct path to the closest workshops marked clearly and precisely on his map, thanks to the generosity of a stranger. Lorulean kindness and conviviality, that he watches spiral around him as people walk by, is astounding. Thanks to the man’s help, he should be able to find his way without trouble. Should be. Should be, he repeats once again, feeling his eyes lose focus on the map unfolded on his knees. His lack of basic orientation skills in Hyrule Castle come back to mind – he swings his legs over the edge of the fountain and admits that he’s fucked.

He leans in to rest his elbows on his knees and lets his chin loll lazily onto the palms of his hands. Lorule’s spring carries with it a cooling breeze that blows flags and banners all about the town. Allowing himself a breather, he decides to watch it breathe for a little while; in every alley there is something or someone going about their business, be it a stray cat or a carpenter. The streets go on forever, and every shingled roof hides another slightly more rusty shingled roof. It’s still early morning, but Castle Town is already awake and alive. Shutters are pushed apart and shop doors open. Bells are rang. A drum joins the violin in a joyful duet.

It’s a beautiful place, and one he wouldn’t mind getting lost in if he had time to spare. Disappointingly, this isn’t the case. He rips his eyes away from the horizon and scans the closest streets again. The area around the fountain has fairly cleared with the thickening crowd around the musicians, but a few children are hanging around in the corner, throwing pebbles at the wall. They appear to be counting their bounces. Link remembers playing something similar against tree trunks with his friends.

One of the kids – a dark-haired boy with a lopsided bowl cut – catches him looking and holds his stare for a few seconds. Link waves him over vaguely and watches the kid saunter towards him, wiping his nose with his sleeve.

“What ?” he asks blandly. He’s missing a tooth.

“ _Hello,_ ” Link signs. The kid doesn’t look like he takes extra courses, but anyone could happen to know sign language. It’s worth a try.

“Oh, you’re mute !” His big dark eyes lose a little hostility. “Like me mum !”

“ _My luck today is unbelievable. I need a bit of help, kid. Think you could do somethin’ for me ?”_

The kid’s feet shuffle on the pavement. “Dunno. What’s in it for me ?”

He’s like most children – a little brattish, a little dreamy, and a hundred percent impulsive. Thanks to a certain little Hylian girl he’d often cared for, Link speaks their language rather fluently. “ _Well,_ ” he begins, and makes a big show of pulling the Master Sword over his shoulder and into his lap, “ _I’m a knight from another kingdom. And I’m looking for someone around here.”_

As expected, the kid steps forward and runs a shy hand down the flat of the blade, mesmerised. “A criminal, you mean ?”

“ _No ! He’s a friend of mine. He came through here a bunch of years ago, but I don’t know where he went after that. He’s been hiding, see, and I really need to find him.”_

“That’s so cool…” the kid mutters, not entirely listening.

“ _The thing is,_ ” Link continues, “ _I know where he used to hang out. But I can’t get there on my own – I need you to guide me._ ” He pokes the kid’s chest and grins. “ _Think you can handle that ?_ ”

The boy blows out his cheeks smugly. “O’ course I can ! I know this town better than anyone, mister knight.” And as an afterthought, almost reluctantly : “There still ain’t much in it for me, though.”

“ _And that’s where you’re wrong._ ” Link rummages through his bag, and when his hands come out he’s holding out a shiny blue rupee in one hand and a madeleine in the other. “ _You get to pick, but I’d rather you take the rupees. The cake is_ really _good.”_

The kid doesn’t think twice – he grabs the pastry and chews it down without a second’s doubt. The look on his face almost makes Link regret it.

“That is a good cake, mister.”

“ _Right on ! So, can you read a map ?_ ”


	9. Chapter 9

“And that’s the end of Anvil Street, mister.”

The kid, wearing the most self-satisfied of smirks, sweeps his arms in an ark around him. It isn’t the most graceful scenery Castle Town has to offer, but it’s the place he’s been looking for, and that’s enough.

The street is mossy and darker than the rest of town – the walls are taller and the rooves higher, making moisture and shade unavoidable. Creeping vines frame every window with bright flowers that prevent the area from falling into the ‘decidedly murky, must be avoided at all cost’ category of a tourist guide. Something or another has to make up for the continuous and regular thumping of metal against metal.

Bang. Scrap. Scrap.

Bang !

“Any chance I could get another one of those cakes, ‘ey ?”

“ _Nope._ ”

“Oh, bugger,” he mutters eloquently, and legs it into the darkness of a nearby alleyway.

Bugger indeed. Link folds up his map and slips it back into his bag, where it’ll gather crumbs for the next few hours. He’s clearly in the right place, judging by all the low-hanging wooden signs over every doorway, but where to start is another matter.

  1. He just needs to get on with it.



He picks the closest workshop and slips through the doorway.

It looks painfully normal, like all of the ones he will visit within the day : dark and gnarly in nature, forgettable in design and illuminated solely by the furnace at the back of the room. It has long wooden benches a nauseating smell of melted copper that makes him tempted to hold his breath. He compromises by breathing through his mouth and follows the clang of iron on iron further into the room.

Surrounded by a variety of weapons and other nameless contraptions of curling wire and bolts sits an artisan, bent nearly halfway over his worktable. When he hears his visitor’s steps, he puts his hammer down and pulls off a thick glove nearly twice the size of his hand. He’s got a kind face and ravines beneath his eyes where protective goggles have dug deep. He scratches his beard before extending his hand outwards.

“Ey, if it ain’t a foreigner ! Hello, sir. Pleasure to have you.”

Link shakes it demurely. “ _Hello. I’m sorry to bother you so early…”_

“No troubles there. The front door ain’t open for nothing. What can I help you with ?”

“ _Well…_ ” His fingernails scrape against the nape of his neck nervously. “ _I’m looking for someone who spent a lot of time around these parts about seven years ago ? I was wondering if you might be able to help me.”_

The man considers it a moment; he rubs the tip of his nose. “Seven, you say. My memory ain’t what it used to be, but who knows. What’s the fella’s name ?”

“ _Ravio,_ ” Link tells him, spelling it out letter by letter. “ _He would have been about twelve back then._ ”

“A kid, huh ?” The blacksmith shakes his head. “I’m afraid I don’t remember havin’ any around at that time. A couple o’ my neighbours were takin’ on apprentices and such at that time, though. Bloke named Bosin was pretty known for havin’ a bunch of youths on his team. He still works down the street, first door on your right. There’s a golden lion knocker on the door, can’t miss ‘im – pompous prick. Try your luck there.”

“ _Thank you.”_ They say brief farewells, and Link leaves the renewed knocking behind. Down the street and on the right stands a similar building. He uses the golden knocker once and slips inside.

“Welcome, welcome sir ! Welcome to our fine establishment ! Weaponry, armour, repairs – we offer all sorts of services on demand. What are you after today ?”

Link gives the young assistant the same inquiry and description as before : looking for a friend, named Ravio, snuck around this crowd seven years ago. Once more he receives no more than a sorry shake of the head from the towering fellow standing by the furnace.

“Never heard of the kid,” he tells him, “but some other chaps further down might’ve. Try knockin’ on Farson’s door.”

So Link goes knockin’ on Farson’s door. But Farson only tells him :

“Doesn’t ring a bell. Go ask Thibault, on the other side o’ the street, he might know more.”

And Thibault, of course, tell him :

“No idea who that is ! Never had kids in my workshop, too hazardous. Maybe some colleagues o’ mine tried it out, though; I’m thinkin’ Mora ?”

And so on :

“Nope, sorry. Go see Gert next door and ask ‘im, if you want.”

“Ravio ? Not around here there wasn’t. Linh could help, mayhap. Tall lady with the handsaw outside.”

“Don’t remember, don’t have any free time to give it. Ask someone else. Orphe, for instance.”

“Linh sent you ? Very funny. I have memory loss issues, young man – I won’t be of much help. I’d say Sam is worth asking, though.”

“No. Oh, look at that ! It’s sizzling – oh, sorry. Yeah, I’m not too sure who might have seen your man, but why not question Pete ? Fella works a few doors up.”

“I don’t recognize the name… was he a foreigner too ? If not, I doubt he’d have left much of a trace… It might do you good to visit Quinn, though.”

“Busy. Ask someone else.”

“Ask someone else, kid.”

“Ask someone else.”

Link asks someone else, and someone else after that, until the sun is so high up in the sky it has begun to slowly decline; he’s covered in sweat, dusty and increasingly irritated. He’s visited every single workshop on all three main streets, and even knocked on some residential doors along the way. While they all have Lorule’s touch of kindness and sweet customer service, he’s starting to tire. He takes a brusque turn into the closest dead-end and crouches. Aching knuckles and no progress whatsoever. There are three madeleines left in his bag, a little beaten up by now – he grabs one and munches moodily. Time to plan his next mood.

The alleyway is a good place to think : it’s one of the only places the sun doesn’t quite reach at this time of the day, and is thoroughly deserted. A rat or two run around his legs, but a little shuffling chases their rattling away. Ratt-att-att and scrambling paused, giving him much needed silence. If the engineers and scientists couldn’t give him pointers, he’d have to go to the elders and hope with all his might that they remembered more. At this point, _any_ clue would do. But without a road to walk down, he was stuck.

The rattling picks up again, regular and metallic. There are no rats clawing at the pavestones this time, so Link takes a minute to look up and trace the sound back to its source. There are no doors nor windows in the alley, just lots and lots of bricks. Maybe the tapping was coming from the other side of the walls. Nevertheless… He leans a little to the right, kneeling on the pavement, and finds the alley is hiding a sort of cove, where the walls are taller and further apart. It’s worth a closer inspection.

Two steps are enough to reveal what was hidden : a large metal door, ravaged by erosion and rust and mossy at the edges. It opens vertically and is currently hooked to the floor with a metal loop. There’s a worn-out sign nailed to the wall above it. Its wonky, once-colourful letters read : 

_LURELEI’S EMPORIUM_

_(wonders of all sorts)_

The tap-tap-tapping continues from within. Link takes a tentative step towards the door and thinks : at this stage, anything is worth a try. He lifts a hand, readies sore knuckles and knocks three times.

The tapping stops. There’s brief shuffling and what sounds suspiciously like cursing before a shrill voice calls out to him. “We’re closed !”

Yes, that much is obvious. Link rolls his eyes and knocks again – this time just a little more harshly. The cursing becomes less ambiguous as the shop owner approaches, and the muttering doesn’t stop until they knock back. The door shakes a little.

“Sorry, you may not have heard me the first time. We’re CLOSED. I’ll have to ask you to come back during business hours, please and thank you. Now please stop knocking on my door !”

Link’s last three knocks are ferocious.

The door jingles merrily on its hinges and inches off the ground. He watches it open slowly, making a great deal of creaking, and narrows his eyes into the revealed darkness of the shop. To the right, securing an ancient-looking leaver, stands who he assumes is Lurelei. Their appearance fits the shop’s eccentric exterior : they’re wearing what looks like a filthy plastic apron, with a pocketsful of tools peeping out from every side. They’re a confusing individual, bright-eyed and marked with age, silver hair spilling out of some sort of beret. Thin shoulders contradict thick forearms covered in a layer of bandage and enormous gloves that nearly reach their elbows. They look slightly insane and very annoyed.

“I can’t believe I’ve had to open my door to repeat this, but the shop is shut and frankly, even if it was open, I would still tell you to fuck off. There are people working in here !” They throw a hand over their shoulder and gesture at the shop, where the buzzing of machinery persists. “Now you’d better git before I chase you away myself.”

“ _So sorry to bother you,_ ” Link signs, gritting his teeth, “ _but I need some help. I’ve asked everyone on this street except you.”_ He gives a polite smile, but it’s seriously straining at the edges.

“I’m busy, kid, so go play somewhere else. I’ve got a living to make.”

They turn to let the door drop, but Link throws an arm out in front of them and block the way. “ _Excuse me, but I really need to ask you some questions. I promise you can throw me out afterwards. I’m looking for someone named Ravio, and –“_

He has no time to explain – Lurelei spins around and gives him a look a fury so intense that he nearly cringes back. It takes all his strength to keep looking into the thundering grey eyes ripping him apart. They take a step forward towards Link, narrowly missing his foot, and lean in close enough for their breaths to mingle. Link holds his, very still.

“Who sent you ?” they ask. Their voice reverberates on the alleyway walls, imperious. “ _Who ?_ Tell me ! If you’re working for that bastard Yuga, I’ll bash your brains in myself !”

“ _Not Yuga,_ ” he manages, although his hands are shaking. “ _I have a message for him from the Queen.”_

Lurelei seizes the collar of his tunic and tugs harshly. Link’s feet nearly lift off the ground. They stare at each other gravely for a moment, and he knows he’s being examined inch for inch. The shop keeper grunts and tightens his hold.

“If you’re lying, I’ll kill you. Understand ?”

Link has never nodded fasted.

He’s dropped unceremoniously back down and slumps, loosening his collar. Lurelei has turned their back on him and moved back into the shop, but a silent gesture invites him to follow. His legs are shaky, but they carry him forward. He’s had warmer welcomes.

The interior of the shop succeeds in being wackier than both its sign and its owner. He is led far into the back of the boutique, and has the time to look at most of the aisles and shelves as he goes. Everything is either explosively colourful or impossible to describe – if asked, he couldn’t have explained what any of the items did. There were small sewn toys with springs twice their size embedded in their back, and stacks of lights that all glowed in turn. On one shelf sat a very worried teddy bear clutching in its paws a metal rod; every few seconds it would announce the time and temperature in an equally worried voice. Bolts sat all by their lonesome all over the floor. The walls themselves were completely hidden behind hundreds of blueprints and rough sketches that had been carelessly pinned onto them; a few drawings were definitely upside down. Lurelei opens a small door at the shop’s very end and nods to him.

The room is tiny and painfully normal, compared to the rest. He accepts the chair pulled out for him and watches the owner switch on some strange contraption that began emitting light all on its own. It made a whistling sound when water was poured into it.

“Electricity,” they tell him, grinning crookedly. “Bet you’ve never seen anything like it, huh ?”

It’s very much correct, and made rather obvious by the fact Link can’t take his eyes off it. Familiar curiosity nibbles at him.

“It’s all based on science stuff you wouldn’t begin to understand, but the gist of it is that the machine – called a kettle, by the way – is gonna warm the water up all on its own. Neat, right ?”

“ _What, without fire ?_ ” That’s ridiculous, and nearly makes him laugh.

Lurelei frowns and tuts at him. “Don’t look so condescending, kid. I see you ain’t a man after old Ravio’s heart – he went crazy for all this stuff.” The, ah, ‘kettle’ makes a beeping noise, and they clamber back up to switch its light off. “Fancy some tea ?”

A cup is passed onto him either way. Leaves and spice swirl inside it and slowly dissolve. He can feel its heat warm up his palms. Had there really been no fire involved…?

Lurelei settles down and takes a long sip before looking at him again, with no more kindness than before. “So. Message from the Queen. You’ll have to forgive me, but you’ll have to run it through me before I give you any info on the kid. I like him, see, and don’t want him involved in any funny business.”

Ah, yes, the message. Link gulps down some of his tea to buy himself a few seconds. “ _Right. Queen Hilda asked me to, uh, find out where he is. It’s been seven years since he left, and she figures it would be safe for him to return, if he wants to. And the message itself is that she misses him, and would like to see him again. That’s all.”_

…or part of it, anyway, but the full story won’t work in his favour; he has a feeling the shop keeper won’t be keen on Ravio travelling through worlds to prevent a war. One step at a time seems like the safest route. Besides, he’s reached a stage where a single mistake could ruin everything, and he can’t afford to anymore : this is the most information he’s found all day, and it’s clear that there’s more where it came from. He feels himself buzz with part excitement, part anticipation.

“She misses him ?” Lurelei raises a bushy eyebrow. “That sounds legit. He did yap a lot about here, when he was still around. It was always Hildie something something something. Oh, Hildie liked that flower !” They mimic a child’s high pitched voice, waving their hands around their head. “Oh, how I miss dear Hildie. They were friends from childhood, he said. Might have been cute if he wasn’t so annoying about it.”

Link’s eyebrows shoot up in turn, and he finds himself leaning in over the table. This might be his only chance to find out about Ravio before he actually meets him. “ _What was he like ?_ ”

They grunt again – it’s apparently a habit. “Oh, a bit of a bumbling idiot, really. Deathly optimistic. Tended to talk a lot, but I think that’s just ‘cos he didn’t like silence very much.” A grumbling laugh marks their speech. “I say that, but the boy was very clever. Bit too clever for his age, which is probably why he scampered. He came lookin’ for a discreet kind of job, said he would do anything as long as I let him sleep here. Had him wash the floors at first, but two or three nights in I found him messin’ around with unfinished circuits. Aye, he was bright. So I put him to work on inventions, and it wasn’t long until he was whisking up his very own.”

“ _He made things ? Like the items in the shop ?_ ”

“Well, yeah. A lot of the stuff on the shelves were flights of fancy of his. He liked tryin’ things out, but he wasn’t very decisive. Lacked self-confidence, if you ask me. I never did get much about his personal life outta him, but I got to find out lots about his brains. Had a lot of potential. It’s a pity he stayed such a short time.”

There’s soft-spoken affection in the way they described their protégé. Their sharp features seem to melt down into happy reminiscence, and something about them tells Link that Ravio had never really left the emporium altogether. Behind him his memory had stayed with Lurelei and blossomed over time. He must have been, Link thinks, a rather extraordinary person.

“ _Why did he leave…?_ ”

“Felt he had to, I expect. He never really said. I know he was some sort of fugitive, though I can’t imagine the kid doing anything bad.” They shrug and down the rest of their tea. “Stayed here a good year and a half and then suddenly told me he had to leave urgently. Said he needed to seek his own path or somethin’, but that was just an excuse, wasn’t it ? He was runnin’ away.”

Silence stretches out between them. Link stares deep into his cup, and find the shop keeper doing the same on their side of the table; they’re fiddling with a rusty spanner, twirling it loosely around a gloved finger.

Link is struggling between politeness and duty when their voice make itself heard again, breaking the strain. “I suspect you came askin’ around because you don’t know where he went after that. Am I right ?”

“ _Yes.”_

“Well you’re in luck !” They slam a heavy hand into the table and stand up. “He left without sayin’ where he was going, but he sent a handful of letters for a while. You stay right there, I’ll go get them. Don’t touch anything.”

Once more, any answer he might have given is disregarded and they disappear through the doorway and into the shop.

Link could have sat tight and waited – theoretically. But under all the guises of a knight on a mission, he is still very much Link, and that comes with some unavoidable characteristics that define him. One of those is curiosity and a deep hate for authority that lead him to purposefully do the opposite of what he is ordered; today both join into a pushy impulse that leads him to inspect the mysterious ‘kettle’ a little closer.

Currently, it’s dark and dull. He doesn’t recognise the surface under his fingertips, that doesn’t feel like metal nor wood, nor quite rubber. On the side he finds a little catch, and pushing it in makes the bottom of the object glow bright red. He nearly recoils, but catches himself and kneels in front of it.

“ _No fire,”_ he mouths Lurelei’s earlier words. A closer inspection reveals nothing – there’s no flame, and the light doesn’t waver when he blows on it or shakes the kettle. It’s just there, and when he presses the catch again, it vanishes. “ _That’s incredible.”_

Cautiously he leans over the kettle and opens up its lid. The unused water from their tea is still sloshing around inside, unbothered. He sticks a finger in there and finds it’s still lukewarm. At the very bottom, there’s some sort of metal plate. It doesn’t move or shift.

“ _That’s strange. How does it work ?”_ One hand still touching the bottom, he feels for the catch and presses it again; the light comes on, and a great flash of pain shoots through his fingers. He yelps and pulls them out, cradling them in the light. They’re bright red but otherwise untouched. “ _It warmed up all of a sudden when I pressed the thing on the side ? But how…?”_

“Science, kid.”

He jumps so suddenly that his head smacks right into the corner of the closest cupboard. Lurelei watches him cradle it with an overly amused grin and pulls up their chair. They’re carrying a small wooden box that they set on the table.

“Maybe you’re not so unlike him after all,” they say. “Ever so curious. Actually you two kind of resemble each other physically, you know ? Hell, I haven’t seen the kid in six years or so and I can tell you look similar. Are you family or something like that ?”

“ _…something like that,_ ” Link agrees vaguely and returns to the table. His skull throbs harshly.

“Good enough. OK – no offense, but I don’t know how much you can read, so I’m just gonna set all of these out…”

They pull the box open and tip it. Battered paper spills out onto the tablecloth. Link notices with some satisfaction that Ravio’s handwriting is as bad as his.

“He stopped sending them a year or two ago,” Lurelei tells him, spreading out the letters. “Was pretty vague about why, but he mentioned he had a feeling something bad was gonna happen soon, and he didn’t wanna be found when it did. I think the kid lived in constant fear of finding Yuga’s henchmen on his doorstep one morning.”

“ _If I thought Yuga had it after me, I probably wouldn’t sleep too well either._ ” He remembers his bright red eyes, overflowing with hatred rooted too deep to be rational, and shivers.

“I have to agree.” They pick up a random letter off the top of the pile and skim-read, before tossing it over their shoulder. “I know he gave me the name of the village he went off to in one of these, but I have no idea which one. You’re gonna have to work with me and point out anything that looks even faintly like an address.”

They split the pile into two and delve in. Unsurprisingly, Lurelei makes faster progress than Link but finds no more information. For his part, he struggles a little with the fast reading, partly because of Ravio’s horrendous handwriting and partly because all the words keep jumbling up in different ways. He tries looking out for anything with a capital letter, but all he ends up finding is the name of a river, a species of bird and the nickname Ravio had given to the stray cat outside his house.

When his head clears most, he manages to make out a few paragraphs here and there that give him some extra insights on the Lorulean’s life. Even in his letters, Ravio crams in a lot of words per line. Some letters go on about technical terms Link can’t ever hope to understand (nor pronounce) and share theories with Lurelei about all sorts of things. In one, he proudly announces that he’s opened his very own workshop in the village, following his mentor’s steps, though he doesn’t specify what he sells there. Some of the others are a little softer and a lot more trivial, describing his new and quiet village life, his neighbours and his house. In every letter, even the more sombre ones, he sounds extravagant – there are exclamation marks aplenty all over the pages. Link thinks it’s a funny way to learn to know someone, reading through their stuff. In his mind, his target is slowly shaping into a person.

“…went down past the spring and found a village called – ah ! I’ve got it, kid. This is one of the first he sent me after he left. Here you go. He’s in a place called Rowmore.”

“ _Great !_ ” Link cheers. Then he realises that isn’t entirely helpful, and adds : “… _where is that, exactly ?_ ”

Rowmore, as it turns out, is a small town far off in the west, beyond the plains and forests of Lorule. Lurelei pulls out an enormous map and starts throwing red pins onto it at strategic places. Once it’s pinned to the wall securely, they pull out a toothpick out of their pocket and point to a blotch of houses in the middle of the map.

“This,” they say, using their best customer service voice, “is Castle Town. And this,” (the toothpick travels west up to a little bridge sketched into the paper) “is Highmight Bridge.” The toothpick continues its route upwards, following what looks like a body of water.

“ _Can I have a pencil…?_ ”

A sharpened piece of charcoal hits him square in the forehead, and he dutifully marks the route down on his own map.

“This big river is called Highmight River. Bridge was named after it, obviously. Goes all the way west and curls right around Darkwell Forest. It actually flows on beyond the border, but you need to stop right after the trees start to thin out. Rowmore is just a bit north of that. Two hours walk at most.”

Link draws a loop around Darkwell, a cluster of twisted trees, and stops it short of the edge of the map. “ _So, just to be clear… I’d be travelling by boat ?_ ”

Lurelei snorts. “What else ? By horse the journey takes a good two weeks, and I doubt you have that kind of time on your hands. By boat, letting the wild currents carry you, you’ll be there in five days. Four if you’re lucky. What ? Look alive, kid !”

It’s true that Link has gone a little pale – grey, in fact, in the room’s feeble lighting. He gulps noticeably and runs a hand through his hair. It sticks up strangely and curls back into his face. “ _Well, I– I’ve never been on a boat before._ ”

For some reason, he feels a tad ashamed to admit it; it reminds him of how little of the world he’s seen. The biggest body of water he’d come across was a small lake in the forest, where he’d gone to swim and occasionally fish.

“Kid, for a traveller, you’re incredibly inexperienced.” Lurelei sighs, shaking their head. Silver hair spills lazily over their shoulders. “How’d you even get to Lorule Castle without hitching a ride on a boat ? Don’t tell me you came on foot.”

Link grinds his teeth awkwardly. “… _not exactly._ ”

“Well, it doesn’t matter. You’re just gonna have to suck it up. It’s only a couple of days. You’ll need to buy some food, I expect – you’ve got a great deal of rupees in that bag, but I doubt you can ingest those. Tomorrow morning I’ll take you over to the bridge.”

Link, who has folded a protective arm over his bag, gives them a nod. “ _I’ll have to go now, then._ ” He makes for the doorway but lingers there, throwing a slightly desperate glance over his shoulder. “ _And, um…_ ”

“Yes, you can sleep here tonight. Now git.”

He doesn’t hang around long enough to see them wave him out, and he’s long gone by the time they reach out to touch the pile of letter affectionately. He doesn’t see them take out a blank piece of parchment and start scrawling. Later, he won’t see them slip it into his bag.

“Get your spirits up, kid. You look like we’re on our way to a funeral.”

Link grunts something unsavoury under his breath. Lurelei is clearly much older than he is, but he’s trailing behind them walking at a slow pace ‘unfit for his youth’ (end quote). His back is absolutely killing him. No amount of Lorule hospitality can make up for the aches all over his body, digging deep into his bones : Lurelei’s floor had not been comfortable.

“I didn’t hear that, but I can guess. Now shut up and keep up ! We’re almost there.”

They’re not lying to lure him; over the hill, a wooden beam is starting to show. As they progress upwards it becomes two wooden beams, both carefully carved with spirals and swirls, supported with hefty planks and a handful of nails. Highmight Bridge is much smaller than expected, but it is beautiful. When they reach it Link runs his hands down the finely grained wood, appreciating its craftsmanship. It runs over a stream that is currently small enough to jump over but widens as it goes west. It’s a lot of water. Link is a tad uneasy.

The boat itself doesn’t exactly reassure him. He’s ushered onto it by an imposing fellow, all scraggly black beard and canary yellow rain hat, who moves on to shake Lurelei’s hand heartily. They both look glad to be in each other’s presence, which is great, but Link is in no state to appreciate it.

Standing on the fishing boat’s docks between the sails and the cabin, he finds out several things :

Boats sway.

Boats shudder.

Boats are not his friends.

“You alright ?” Lurelei waves from the docks. “You look a bit green.”

“So about this kid…” The fisherman leans back against the wall, hands stuffed in the pockets of his raincoat. Lurelei stands besides him in a similar position. They’re both looking at the Hylian currently struggling to stay upright on the ship’s deck. He’s gripping onto the mast for dear life.

“I know – not the most dashing, but he ain’t all that bad.”

“No, you know what I mean…” He stares at them gravely. The sight might have been intense if it weren’t for his bright yellow hat covering half his face. Lurelei cackles. “He looks exactly like the one you sent me all them years ago.”

Lurelei gestures vaguely. “There’s…a resemblance,” they allow. Their grey eyes are still fixed on the young man trying to get from the mast to the cabin without doubling over. He’s getting paler by the second.

The fisherman elbows him in the side to get his attention. “No, no. There isn’t a _resemblance,_ Lu. They could be twins. And you’re gettin’ him to Rowmore as well. What’s this all about ?”

“Can’t tell you.” They elbow him back, mostly out of spite. “Mostly because I don’t know either. Kid said they were ‘somethin’ like family’, but who knows. His hair is really light, ain’t it ?”

“Yeah…” Under the morning sunlight, Link’s hair glistens almost blond. “Never seen anythin’ like it before.”

Lurelei detaches from the wall and gives the fisherman a hearty slap on the shoulder. “Well ! Whoever he is, he’s got places to be. You’d best be on your way.”

They’re turning the corner around the bridge wall when the fisherman calls after them. “Aren’t you gonna say goodbye to the kid ?”

They turn to face him briefly, and on their lined face stretches a smile. It’s wide and old and tugs at their skin, digging ravines into time-ravaged flesh that, in the shadows, looks almost grey. They smile with their eyes as well, beady and bright, almost entirely hidden beneath heavy wrinkled eyelids. It isn’t a happy smile, but there is no sadness in their gaze. No – they look at peace.

“He’s got places to be,” they repeat, and withdraw behind the corner.

The fisherman stands there a moment, staring at the spot where his old friend had stood, and he wonders what exactly it all means. Then the sound of someone vomiting into the water rouses him, and he leaves the spot behind.

Over the course of the next four days, the fisherman gets to learn a little more about his passenger. He’s far from informed – nor clever – enough to understand the situation fully, but he likes to know a bit about the people on his ship, and the young man is happier to comply than Lurelei.

His name, the kid had signed to him, is Link. He’s a traveller. He suspiciously doesn’t elaborate on this part. As for his goals ? He’s on a mission on the Queen herself’s behalf to find someone in Rowmore.

Their conversations never last very long, mostly because the kid has dreadful motion sickness and spends the large majority of the journey curled up over the side deck hurling up his breakfast into the river. He feels sorry for him. The riverbanks around Highmight are a gorgeous sight of lush grass, wildflowers and small apple trees, but the kid’s too busy throwing up to appreciate it much.

He’s told him that his name’s Erik, but the kid still insists on calling him sir. He’s got an unnerving quality to him, like he’s not from this world – it’s something in the deep of his eyes and the lightness of his hair. There’s surprising intensity in his gaze every time they converse, as though he’s trying to take in everything at once. He wears a long blue cloak that covers both his shoulders and never disappears, even in the blazing sunlight, and on his back he carries a sword the fisherman almost recognizes. He dismisses the thought; it’s the wrong colour to be Lorule’s sword of legend. Nonetheless, they’re eerily similar.

By their third day of travel, they reach Darkwell Forest. The kid is still emptying his stomach four or five times a day, and has spent most of his time lying flat across the deck, but he stumbles up for this and drapes himself over the edge of the boat. The fisherman joins him in his contemplation and wonders what he’s thinking. It’s a horrible place to look at and stands out in Lorule’s green countryside like a sore and blackened thumb. Trees towers over the river with twisting branches of ebony that nearly curve into an archway above them. The grass is charred and dead. The kid asks him about it, briefly; he tells him they call it devil’s grass and it gives people nightmares. The thick forests are all horrors that often bring on hallucinations and death. Darkwell was not named randomly. The kid nods wisely at this information and continues to stare. In his eyes are reflected the trees’ dark and lined trunks. He stays upright until they sail safely away from the forest, and once it’s out of view drops back onto the deck with a hefty sigh.

The kid’s had a rough time, so the fisherman tries not to feel too insulted when he leaps over the side deck and onto land as soon as they reach shore. He’s beaming like a child, throwing his arms back to stretch. If it weren’t for Erik’s gaze on him, he probably would have hugged the ground or the nearest tree. Still, he’s polite and tips very generously, so he harbours no hard feelings. He watches him go and take with him his curiosity – another day, another journey, another job. He has no time to linger.

He sails away from Rowmore and doesn’t look back.

A mile away, tugging at the straps on his bag, neither does Link.


	10. Chapter 10

Rowmore is a charming little town.

It’s early afternoon and people go about their business. Market stalls decorate the pavement, sparking over-the-counter discussions that Link gets segments of as he walks past. Unlike his home village, it’s a tidy place, where the roads are clear and the gravel is carefully spread. It has the look of designed beauty – beauty people worked for. The buildings are short and stout, showing off arching windows not unsimilar to Lorule Castle’s. On each windowsill flowers have been potted and bloom merrily. The bricks, be it on the walls or the roads, are a gentle pink, nearing white, emphasizing each lick of grass that manages to grow between them. Altogether, it’s a welcoming place and he feels no agitation under the villagers’ gazes.

“Sir !” A man calls from behind his stall. Link raises an unsure hand to his chest and points. The man nods frantically and waves him over. He wastes no time in extending a hairy hand. His handshake is firm. “You’re a traveller, are you not ? I can tell from your sword, aye ! Welcome to our fair Rowmore !”

“ _Thank you,_ ” Link smiles. “ _It’s a pleasure.”_ And truly, it is. Lorule is bursting with little towns and agglomerations all more welcoming that the next, making Hyrule Castle Town look like an unpleasant joke.

“No, the pleasure is ours. We love having people pass by ! Let me treat you to something as a welcome gift ! Choose anything you want.”

Pleased and blushing a little, Link shakes his head. “ _I couldn’t…!”_

“I insist !”

He gestures widely to his stall. It’s filled with wooden boxes stacked with different kinds of fruit. Some of them look familiar, like the juicy apples on the very front row and the small cartons of raspberries, but some are entirely new to him. There’s one in particular that looks thorny and painful to eat. He chooses the apples.

“A fine choice ! All of these are locally grown, you know. No importation. The orchard’s around the corner – lovely place.” He selects the three roundest apples from the pile and slips from into a paper bag. “What business do you have here, if you don’t mind me asking ?”

Link accepts the gift and slips it into his bag. “ _I’m visiting a…cousin who moved here a few years ago. Name’s Ravio.”_

He had spelled it out as he usually did, but there’s no need for that this time; the man’s face lights up immediately in recognition. “Family of Ravio’s ! I thought you looked a lot like him, sir. That’s excellent news, you know ? We all feel he’s been isolating himself a little in the last few weeks. Shop’s been closed for _ages._ He won’t open the door for anyone. I do hope he does so for you.”

“ _So do I…”_ Link scratches the back of his neck. “ _Although – it’s my first time visiting, and he didn’t give his exact address…_ ”

“Not an issue, sir, it’s fairly straightforward from here. Follow the avenue straight down. A five minute walk at most. Then you follow the curve left, and his shop’s the first at the end of the street. He lives there, y’see. It has a flashy sign, you can’t miss it.”

Given the flashy wooden insignia outside Lurelei’s shop, he doesn’t doubt it. “ _Thank you,_ ” he tells the man. “ _For the help and the gift._ ”

“You’re very welcome, sir. You go on and have a good day, now !”

“ _You too !_ ”

Link is almost reluctant to leave the village entrance and all of its stalls and smiling faces behind, but he has directions to follow and a terrible short-term memory. This time, thankfully, they’re easy enough for even him to remember, and he lets his feet do the work for once. This gives him a precious few minutes to think – _really_ think about his next course of action. Arguably, he’d had four days to do so, but the constant sea-sickness had gotten in the way of any major intellectual activity. So far he had relied mostly on sheer luck, instinct and other people’s guidance, but when he was to reach Ravio’s front door, there’d be no one to lend a helping hand. What the hell would he tell him, first of all ? Hello would be a reasonable start, but finding something to follow it up with would be the real challenge. It’s been seven years since the guy’s last heard of the Triforce, and that was when he fled because of it – Link would have to treat delicately, which only succeeds in stressing him out further. Of all things, delicacy is not his forte.

His legs lead him down the bend, left. Here the avenue snuffs out and becomes a narrower cobbled street that lacks the lush glamour of the town’s gates. Sewer water drips down one of the walls. Vegetation has taken the street for its own and left no inch untouched. Creeping vines and wallflowers have created a curtain that completely covers the walls. He heads down it, stepping over the occasional bush, and squints onwards. First building at the end of the street. Not a difficult find, because there’s only one. Consequence : it must be Ravio’s home. Oddity : it looks distinctively like a windmill.

A very still and dusty windmill, that it. Its four wooden sails are frozen in place and, upon closer inspection, covered in cobwebs. The whole structure looks like a strong gust of wind might take it down, and Link is almost afraid to touch its cold stone. It’s definitely the place he’s looking for, though, and there’s a sign hanging from a metal beam above the door that shines bright with unnatural light.

“ _Like the… kettle,_ ” he remarks. Lit up, pretty cursive letters inform him that he has reached

_RAVIO’S SHOP_

“ _Well, that’s straight to the point._ ” The message shines bright blue even in the daylight. The sign also has a cartoonish purple rabbit head stamped onto its corner, which is both cute and unnerving. The door beneath it is shut tight and bears a little wooden slate that reads, in all capitals, ‘CLOSED’ – not that the word has ever stopped him before.

Besides, he has a crucial piece of information in his possession : the guy’s been locking himself up in there for a while. He has to be behind that door. It’s mid knock that he remembers he doesn’t have a plan, but by the time he’s rapped at the door three times, he knows it doesn’t matter. If improvising has gotten him this far, hundreds of miles and a portal away from home, then improvising will get him further.

There’s a loud clatter behind the wood. Silence stretches out after it, and the door doesn’t more.

“ _Fine,_ ” he tells the door gravely. “ _I’ll wait._ ”

Itch itch itch.

His nails dig into the weaving of his tights and scrape against his leg once, twice and thrice. The itch doesn’t go away. He claws and claws and claws but his skin continues to itch, itch itch. He knows that itch. It dates seven years back. The memories associated with them aren’t the brightest.

He knows the itch that makes the skin just above his knee buzz and his hairs stand on end; therefore, he also knows who’s behind that door. His skull is thumping with uneasy pain, but he isn’t surprised. Hiding only lasts for so long.

He’s going to push it, though. The door’s already been locked twice, and will remain closed until something is rammed into it, sooner or later. His workshop is small and enclosed, but has sufficient hiding places. If he can stay out of sight just a few minutes, he might be able to take them by surprise…

He snatches the closest object to him and scuttles under nearest table. There’s a shelf that shields him just enough. From here, he can watch over the door without being seen. He’ll be damned, that itch is tenacious ! One hand busy rubbing the sore spot, the other wrapped tightly around his only defence, he holds his breath.

He waits.

In fact, he’s artful in his waiting, which is a miracle in itself. Patience is very high on his list of unmastered arts, which has regularly landed him in a few spots of trouble, but now he’s showing exemplary discipline. No pacing, no cursing, not even a spot of whistling – he just sits with his back to the door and occasionally bites into an apple. Boredom ? There’s no such thing ! Only focus and self-restraint. He is the picture of professionalism.

This lasts about fifteen minutes.

“ _Fuck !_ ” he exclaims, and jumps to his feet. His legs are aching dully already from all the sitting around. His hands are jittery and cramping and there hasn’t been a single noise from inside. He knocks again, just a little faster, and makes the door rattle loudly. There is absolutely no way he’s waiting here all day.

Out of his bag comes a blank piece of parchment and the charcoal piece he’d snuck out from Lurelei’s workshop. Neither of them are going anywhere unless there’s some kind of communication between them. He spreads out the sheet on the gravel and tries to keep the crankiness of his letters to a minimum.

“HELLO,” the note proclaims. “MY NAME IS LINK. I’D LIKE TO TALK TO YOU.”

He slides it halfway under the door, where it jams. There’s a faint scraping sound from inside, and the paper is pulled out of view.

“ _Aha !_ ” So he _was_ in there, and he _was_ willing to have a chat. Link crouches, forehead resting against the door’s wooden planks, and waits for an answer.

It comes in the shape of a square piece of carboard, on which is scrawled the word “WHY ?” Link seizes it. On the back, he answers : “QUEEN HILDA SENT ME.”

The message is once more dragged out from under the door, but followed by ugly silence. Link wonders if he’s misstepped. Then the same piece of paper emerges again, untouched. “WHY ?” again.

He blows air out of his cheeks and leans back a little. It’s not exactly the kind of matter that’s normally discussed through a thick door. “CAN YOU OPEN THE DOOR ?” he writes. “IT’S A LONG STORY.”

This message is answered with a short and unmasked snort from inside. Link can almost hear him laugh. He tears off another piece of paper and adds : “I’M NO FRIEND OF YUGA AND I’M NOT HERE TO HURT YOU.”

The paper disappears, but one doesn’t come to replace it. From the shuffling inside, Ravio is withdrawing. He waits a few more seconds, hoping to heard footsteps, a ruffle, anything ! but is only met with silence. He’s hit a dead end. “ _Goddamn it!_ ” he whispers, striking the door with his fist. His forehead lolls forward against it again. Technically, he could break down the door and have it done with, but how hard would cooperation be after that ? He couldn’t drag the man all the way back to Hyrule Castle.

“ _Fine. Fine, fine, fine… it’s fine._ ” He repeats it a few more times like a reassuring mantra and turns around to face the streets. It’s fine. He just needs to do a little more waiting. Ravio’s probably in there scared there’s an army behind the door – give him time to calm down and he’ll come out. Link rests his back against the wall and tries to relax, wrapping his cloak a little closer around his shoulders. He’s got time, and food. He’ll ignore the pins and needles in his legs and stay quiet.

The silence behind the door is deafening.

“It’s fine,” he mumbles. He’s been folded under the table for at least three hours. He knows because the sun quadrant above the door has been casting sufficient shadow for him to watch time slip by. The small of his back is creaking in protest, much like the rest of his limbs; he’s been frozen in place this whole time, nearly holding his breath. The itching hasn’t stopped, but there’s a suspicious lack of activity on the other side of the door.

From under the door he can make out only one shadow. It’s small and currently a sort of black blob. The mysterious “LINK” is still sitting outside, immobile under the mid-day sun. He almost feels sorry for the poor sap, curled up on the gravel, but he has no empathy to spare. There are only two people in Lorule whose close proximity caused his mark to itch, and one of those could never have made the journey quietly. This brings forth only one logical conclusion : Yuga is prowling near, and Ravio has no desire to deliver himself right into his grasp.

“Left me alone for _seven years_ ,” he grinds, adjusting his position slightly. “And he shows up now, the bastard.”

Then again, it’s strange to say the least that he’s still locked inside at all. Exchanging notes with the stranger had been unwise, and a confession of his presence; frankly, he’d expected the front door to explode after that, but there’d been no more attempts to lure him out.

Cautiously, he shifts onto his side and curls up on the ground, hugging his knees to his chest. His belts are digging into his waist uncomfortably. Maybe something _else_ is causing the itch – it doesn’t seem likely, but the fact he’s still alive is a testament to how strange today is. Maybe it’s safe to come out, and at least peek into the street.

“Not yet.” He shuts his eyes and tries to think. Blindly, his hand reaches over his desk and feels for paper and a pencil. Okay. He lays it flat on the ground and bites the end of his lead. “I’ll wait until night-time. And while I do that…let’s figure out some theories.”

He wakes up in the dark with lead smudged on his face.

There’s some undignified scrambling before he remembers he hadn’t left any lights on. While he dozed off on top of his scribbling, the afternoon had slipped away into a dark evening. He pulls matches out of his pocket and lights the nearest candle; fortunately for him, the door still stands in its hinges, locked. And from outside, the sound that had woken him : loud snoring.

Now that, he thinks, is idiotic. Moron behaviour. To let his guard down outside the door and go as far as to _fall asleep_ – only a fool would let it happen. It’s an immensely reassuring revelation that leads him to crawl out from under the desk and kneel.

“I’m gonna be aching for weeks !” He rubs at his knees – the left one still itching madly like a spider bite – and manages to get up without knocking anything down. He totters over to the window and leans out to inspect his front door.

Huh.

Mister “LINK” has dozed off against door, bundled up in what looked like a cloak. Ravio can’t make out details of his face in the unlit street, but he can tell that he’s young. In fact, they look about the same age. He does have a weapon (a mighty looking sword that reminds Ravio of Lorulean lore), but it’s harmlessly propped up against the wall, still in its sheath. A half-eaten apple lays in his lap. He looks absolutely inoffensive.

Also, the Triforce of Courage shines on his shoulder.

Well, it’s upside down, but it’s there, casting light upon the doorstep. Every so often the man groans and rubs at it unconsciously, thus confirming the second of Ravio’s theories : this stranger is the cause of his itch.

He leans back away from the windowsill, letting relief wash away his throbs and aches. No one is out there ready to club his head open and drag him back to the capital. He’s safe. In the faint candlelight, he grins.

“Oh, I gotta let him in !” he tells the room, faintly alarmed. “He’s been out there all day.” When they’d properly introduced themselves, he’d have to apologise for his rudeness. Although, he had a pretty good excuse backing it up.

He rushes to the door and pulls back two locks. It’s only as he’s pulling it open that he remembers Link is leaning against it on the other side.

Link wakes up by nearly cracking his skull open.

Now he’s had some rough awakenings in his time. Loud knocking, close gunshots and screams had been some of them. Once Rine had dropped a whole bucket of bugs on him to get him out of bed. And just a few days ago, Lurelei had decided that the best way to get him up and running early in the morning was to dunk and entire pitcher of freezing water over his head.

But nearly cracking his skull open isn’t fun enough to be able to reflect on a few months in the future – the memory will probably hurt as much as his head is hurting right now. Disorientated, he flails on the ground and reaches up to cradle his head. The door behind him is gone. Instead, there’s someone standing over him, a hand covering his mouth. He hears a very faint “oh !”

Then he tilts his head backwards and their eyes meet.

They’re green, he notices first. The street is badly lit and the shop fares no better, but he can tell. They’re very green and, right at this moment, open wide in both shock and amusement. The sore spot at the back of his head flares, and his eyes pull out of focus – when he’s got it together again, he can see the stranger’s whole face clearly.

To call him a stranger feels out of place, because he looks so _familiar_ ! Gazing up at him is like staring into a distorted mirror. His skin is dark, his smile bright, his jawline so exactly like Link’s that its destabilising. It isn’t the only feature they share : from the tip of their nose to the shape of their eyes, there’s eerie similarity that can’t be denied. They’re not identical – but like Hilda and Zelda, the ghost of one could be seen in the other’s face. His hair is longer, and a dark shade of purple that matches what little of his tunic he can make out. His fringe, like Link’s, curls wildly in his face. On the sides, loose strands are gathered into one and slipped through golden rings. At the back, his hair is tied back into a practical high ponytail. He looks surprised and delighted at once, and offers Link a helping hand.

“Hi !” he beams. He gives Link’s hand a vigorous shake before letting it go. “Sorry for almost splitting your skull in two. I’m Ravio ! It’s a pleasure.”

Before he can even respond, the young man has darted behind him and picked up his bag for him. Then he puts his palms flat against Link’s back and pushes. “Come on ! Get in ! The night are chilly, I can’t leave the door open all night !”

Link stumbles over the doorstep and into the room. Other than a tiny candle melting under the closest table, it’s pitch dark. Ravio hurries in after him and shuts the door. The sound of two locks being pulled bounces against the round walls.

“I’m sorry about the lights – I thought you were here to _kill_ me, so I was laying low. Had to– say, mister, you’re awfully quiet.”

“ _I’m mute,_ ” Link tries to gesture, but in the dark the message is lost. Ravio strikes a match and begins to circle the room, lighting small candles along the way.

“If you’re angry about me leaving you out there the whole day,” he says, “you’ll have to accept both my apologies and my reasoning. No one’s come here from the Castle in _years,_ and _…_ ”

Link has been frantically trying to attract attention to himself, pointing at his throat – finally his host turns enough to catch his gesticulating and understands. He snuffs out the match on his belt and looks at him inquisitively.

“ _I’m mute,”_ he signs again.

Ravio’s eyes widen slightly. “Ah ! That explains it. Natural causes or divine intervention ?”

Link draws a blank. “… _What ?”_

He pulls a chair over and throws his legs over it, crossing his arms over its back. It tilts forward every time he leans in. “I’m asking because of that.”

Link follows his finger to the glowing mark on his arm. The cloak must have slipped off while he slept… He runs a hand over it in a fit of self-consciousness and shakes his head. “ _I was just born mute._ ”

“That doesn’t really answer my question.” For a second Link catches him pouting, but the expression soon vanishes to be replaced with a jovial smile. He claps his hands once and stands again; Link gets the impression that, like him, he can’t stay still for very long. “Tell you what, forget about it for now ! I’ll harass you about it later – look forward to it. In the meantime, welcome to my shop !”

He spreads his arms and spins around, gesturing to the space around him. With a dozen candles lit, Link can make out his surroundings a little better. Ravio’s home is bigger than it looks from the outside : he’s divided his space in two with a large curtain that sails from wall to wall. He can make out the shape of a bed on the other side. On _their_ side, he’s got stalls arranged around the room, pushed up against the walls closest to the door. They’re both standing on a circular carpet that sweeps across the floor and furnishes the empty space. A little deeper into his den, Ravio’s got a big desk propped up against the bricks – currently it’s covered with loose pieces of paper, bolts and nails and metal scraps. Facing it from the other side of the room sits a battered old couch.

“Nice place, right ?” he grins. Now he’s standing besides Link and not _over_ him, the Hylian can get a better look at him too. He recognises the tunic he’d glanced at outside, purple and covered in dust – it’s sleeveless and stops mid-thigh, where Ravio is scratching nervously. Underneath it, he’s wearing a short-sleeved linen shirt. The outfit is accessorised with a thick belt that loops twice around his middle. For the rest, his boots are knee-high and not dissimilar to Link’s. As he’d guessed, they’re the exact same height.

“Okay – you clearly don’t talk much, which is fine by me because I do.” He’s crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back on one leg. “But this is how it’s gonna go. I’m gonna ask you what you’d like to drink. Then you’re gonna sit down and do the chatting. Or, um, gesturing. Alright ?”

“ _Alright._ ” Link is disorientated, and this guy seemed to be wired at a higher voltage. He wipes the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. “ _Fine by me._ ”

“Great ! So what would you like to drink ?”

He asks for something warm – the chill outside has clung to him and refuses vacate the premises. The tips of his fingers are still icy to the touch. A few moments later he’s handed a steaming mug of milk and invited to take the couch. Ravio sits cross-legged on the carpet and sets his drink down besides him.

“Right,” he says. He’s staring at Link in an intensely intense way that’s definitely making him sweat more. “Let’s hea– I mean, see it.”

Link’s hands are wrapped tight around his mug, taking in its comforting warmth, but he’d rather they had something to pick at – his fingers were always the first thing to tingle when he got nervous. Reluctantly he puts his milk down and rests his elbows on his knees. He almost looks business-like (and in the corner of his eye he misses Ravio smiling). “ _I’m not sure where to start.”_

“One thing at a time is the way to go !” his host cheers from his spot on the floor. “…or at least that’s what I was always told. Hey, start off by telling me how you found me ! I’m dying to know.”

“ _Ah…_ _I started off by talking to the Queen, who told me why you left. Then I searched Castle Town for clues, but no one could give me any useful info. I was starting to despair when out of sheer luck I found this tiny shop in a dark alley.”_

“Lurelei’s emporium, right ?” Ravio beams. “Good ol’ Lurelei. How are they doin’ these days ?”

Link shrugs. “ _Fine. Very energetic, in a disturbing sorta way.”_

“Ooh, that’s them alright.”

“ _They were the only person who could tell me about you, but they more or less tried to skin me when I mentioned your name._ ”

“That’s mostly my fault, I think.” Ravio gives him a sheepish grin. “I told ‘em to absolutely make sure no one from the capital found out ‘bout me. Gotta admit, I wasn’t quite expecting them to be so, uh, serious about it. Hearin’ that, I’m surprised you got anything from them, actually !”

“ _I think it’s hard to get anything from them in general,”_ Link grumbles. “ _In any case, mentioning the Queen softened them up a bit and they showed me some of the letters you’d sent. They told me you were in Rowmore, so I hopped on a…”_ (shiver) “ _…boat and was off. After that the sign outside the door was a giveaway.”_ He allows himself a small victorious smile by the end, because yes ! he’s reached his goal, and half of his work is done.

But half remains. And that half might be much harder than the first.

“Impressive !” There’s something about Ravio’s gaze that makes Link a little flustered. So far, it hasn’t wavered one bit. Now his eyes flicker down and his expression softens. “So you have a message from Hildie for me ?”

Link scratches the back of his head a few moments too long. “ _Well, yes._ _It isn’t much – she says she misses you. And that she’d be glad to see you come back home.”_

“That’s sweet.” It certainly is, but Ravio doesn’t look that chuffed about it. He tilts his head a little, stretching his neck. “But it’s absolutely not the reason you’re here, right ?”

Link doesn’t reply. That much is painfully obvious – the lie had worked up until now, but sitting in front of his host, it falls short by a mile. He tries to ignore the familiar thump of pressure in his ears, but it’s too loud and too distracting. His eyes flicker around the room. This really isn’t the right time…

“Hey, mister !” Ravio’s shifted forward and inched closer to the couch. He lays a calming hand on Link’s knee. “Looks like I’m loosing you here. Take it easy, Link ! – if that’s really your name, o’ course.”

“ _What ?_ ” Link’s eyes lock back into focus. He notices, somewhere in the back of his mind, that Ravio’s touch doesn’t burn like Zelda’s. “ _Oh – yes. Yes it is.”_

“Oh, good. Are you OK, then ? I hope it wasn’t that whack to the noggin that’s making you so jumpy !”

“ _I just have a lot to say and no idea how to say it,_ ” he admits. He takes a moment to rub his eyes, setting a bright shower of stars flying across his vision. “ _I appreciate you letting me in, though. Honestly, I thought it would be harder.”_

“Don’t thank me ! Thank the glowing thing on your shoulder.” Ravio gives him a bemused grin, gesturing at the Triforce. “Also my curiosity about it. And let’s not forget my boundless kindness !”

The young man’s joking tone, and the breathy chuckle that follows it, manages to calm Link down. The cottage is small, but it’s warm, much like its owner, and a little of his fear dies down.

“Anyway,” Ravio has retrieved his hand from Link’s knee and has his chin resting against it, elbow propped up against his knee. “Late evening is only a good time for long stories if they’re fun, and if there’s wine. And I doubt you’d be so on edge if the story was fun.”

“ _I’d do with some wine, though,”_ Link mopes. “ _Will it work if I work some jokes into it ?_ ”

“Depends. How good are your jokes ?”

“ _Uh…”_ Link scratches the back of his neck. The wicked grin that spreads across his lips is definitely bad news. “ _Get this. What do the Goddesses say to the hero when he finds a jammed door ?_ ”

“Oh, no.” Ravio runs a hand down his face and gives Link a pleading look. “I’m sorry I asked.”

“ _Triforce._ ”

“That was terrible,” he tells him point-blank. But there’s an amused smile on his face and he definitely blows air through his nose, which is good enough. They stare at each other for a few seconds – and he starts cackling under his breath.

“ _I could think of another one,_ ” Link grins. He relaxes back against the couch, stretching as he goes. With each wavering breath his host takes, he feels a little tension leak out of the room.

“No !” He waves a hand about urgently, trying unsuccessfully to wipe the smile off his face. “Spare me, please !”

“ _Glass o’ wine could buy my silence._ ”

Ravio snorts. “Hold your horses, mister. I don’t share my finest wine with anybody ! Tell me why you’re here on my couch and I might give you a drop or two.”

Link chews on his lip tenaciously under the young man’s gaze. “ _Will you throw me out into the cold, damp, dark night if I say something you don’t want to hear ?_ ”

“Do I look heartless ?” Ravio manages to look immensely insulted without losing his smile. Teasing is his second nature. “That’s just plain rude. I’ll pretend you never asked.”

“ _I hereby have official, vocal guarantee that I won’t spend the night on the cobblestones,”_ he signs gravely, trying to look serious. “ _You can’t withdraw it now._ ”

“Agreed. But if you keep me waiting I just might anyway.”

“ _Fine,_ ” Link sighs, but it really isn’t. It isn’t much of a dilemma – there’s only one path for him to follow. He just isn’t sure how fast to walk.

In the end, none of his overthinking comes in handy, and with his home brand of tactless honesty he tells him :

“ _I need you to travel with me to another kingdom and prevent the possible end of the world.”_

“Huh,” Ravio says.

And then : “I’m gonna need that wine after all.”


	11. Chapter 11

The world, according to Ravio, always has a few tricks up its sleeves.

And whether the rabbit that emerges from its magical top hat is dead or alive, _something_ will always pop out. Ravio has learned to expect it, and most importantly has learned to bounce back.

Aged twelve, he’d watched every solid, unmoving fact in his life wash away in the space of a day. That had been a slap to the face. But he hadn’t stood around waiting for another – he’d run for his life, and forward towards something new. Not because it was the easiest thing to do, but because it was the most rational.

Expecting things is a bad idea. When you’re barely a teen all alone in a big, wide world, you learn that rather fast. Sometimes, you have to take what comes your way, whatever it is, and take it in stride. Sometimes you have to flee the town you were born and raised in and work yourself to blood and sores. Sometimes you have to grow up a little quicker, and open up your own shop in a whole new place. Sometimes, that helps build you.

Sometimes, it saves you.

So Ravio isn’t altogether shocked when he opens the door and finds a young man who looks just like him cradling his head at his feet. Startled, yes. Surprised – undoubtedly. But shocked ? No. He’s _curious._ And he lets him in.

He isn’t any more shocked when his impromptu guest proves to have the Triforce of Courage stamped onto his right shoulder. He already has his theories, but they’ve both decided it’s for the best if they wait until morning to discuss things further. Link is currently curled up on the couch – having refused to let his host take it instead – still fully dressed and slightly drooling. He’s left his bag and sword unattended, propped up against the wall, and seems untroubled for the first time in a while. A glass of wine was enough to knock him out.

Ravio hasn’t had any – not because he doesn’t want to (he’s probably never longed for a drop more) but because he needs to keep his head clear. Ethically, his actions are questionable. Morally, they’re stricken down lower yet. Nonetheless, his safety primes, and there he is, digging through his guest’s belongings.

“Shit,” he whispers harshly, instantly admonishing himself for the noise. A little quieter, he mumbles : “This guy’s packing some serious coin.”

And he is : so much that he hadn’t been able to master his surprise. Blondie has at least four hundred rupees sitting in his bag looking pretty and shiny. They’re very alluring, and he can practically hear their sing-song voices _begging_ him to slip them into his pocket, but even he has standards. Going through people’s stuff unauthorized isn’t cool, but thievery ? that’s pushing it a little too far, sir.

Other than the rupees, Link doesn’t have much of interest. There are quite a lot of crumbs, and two or three apples he recognizes from Finn’s market stall right up the street; beyond that, it’s canned goods, a few health potions, bandages and – “Oh !”

Two letters. The first one is addressed to Link, which he disregards and throws back into its pocket – the second, however, bears his name in an unmistakable scrawl.

“Hello,” he tells both the letter and its author as he unfolds it. Then he settles comfortably on the carpet and reads :

_Hey, kid._

_You’re a real bastard for not sending word for a year. I trust you’re still keeping yourself alive, though. I did what you asked against my better judgement and never replied to your last letter, but lemme tell you while I can : that last sketch you sent was looking good. I bet by now you’d have figured out the last details. The idea is excellent – I’m just hoping you’re not gonna injure yourself with it. Knowing you, you already have._

_I sent you the fella carrying this note. He doesn’t know I slipped it in, though, so don’t run your mouth about it. I can’t say for certain, but I think he’s OK. Not the brightest, but not dangerous either. He says he’s come on Hilda’s behalf, which is obviously an excuse, but he’s definitely not in bed with Yuga’s gang either. You’ll have to figure the rest out yourself, which should be no trouble._

_I’d ask you to send word back, so I know you’re safe, but no doubts you’re still jumping at the sight of suspicious shadows, huh ? It would be ‘too much of a risk.’ Ah, well. It’s a stab to my ego to say this, but I miss hearing from you, kid. You were a good egg in a rotting nest. If you can bring yourself to, send ol’ Lurelei a note._

_Look after yourself. I’ll do the same._

_Ciao._

Like anything-Lurelei, the letter has their trademark brand of affectionate offense. It almost brings tears to Ravio’s eyes. What ends up wetting them is less the unexpected sweetness of certain lines and more the gesture of writing to him at all; it doesn’t last, however, because Lurelei would surely slap him in the head for acting so soft.

He folds the letter back up and slips it into its envelope, which he carefully stacks with his other mail. The side of the bookshelf on which the mailbox rests is charred black, subtle proof that his mentor’s predictions of catastrophe had been correct. The risks had been well worth it, in the name of his experiments – _yes,_ even the time he’d nearly lost a few fingers to frostbite. Or broken the roof in. And that one time he’d nearly caused the house to collapse.

Well worth it ! he repeats to himself forcefully. And when his guest wakes up, he’ll be sure to show him the product of his labours. More than his home, this is his _shop_ , and the young man snoring on his sofa has the funds to invest a little.

He cleans up the mess he made on the ground, methodically refilling Link’s bag. He does a pretty good job, and nothing looks amiss, but chances are its owner wouldn’t notice even if he’d nicked something. A little shuffling is enough to kick the search’s resulting crumbs under the carpet, and ta-dah, there he is, washed of all suspicion.

The next step is to re-arrange his displays and dust his goods – the shop’s been closed for weeks and he’s been disregarding everything in favour of planning a quick escape, be it necessary. The itch just above his knee has a habit of vaguely warning him when something big is coming this way. However, it soon becomes obvious his efforts are futile; he’s spreading the dust more than wiping it away, and his movements are increasingly slow and jerky. Despite his afternoon nap under the desk and his usual boundless energy, he’s too tired to go on.

“I’ll do it tomorrow,” he tries to say, but an overwhelming yawn cuts the sentence off in the middle and the rest is unintelligible. He sits himself down on the ground again and rests his back against the closest wall, closing his eyes with relief. He can feel a faint migraine coming on as he curls up against the bricks, but sleep takes him before he can suffer from it. True to his adaptable nature, he can fall asleep swiftly and anywhere – today has been more draining than most, and it requires no special effort.

Link wakes up, for the first time in a while, on his own terms.

The clock his blurry eyes focus on first informs him solemnly that it is ten twenty-seven in the a.m. A further amount of blinking reveals open shutters and bright light pouring in from the unobstructed windows, shining a squarish shape onto the carpet. He hadn’t been sure the previous evening, but it turns out to be a deep red after all. His eyes trail up across its length and there, at its edge, propped up against the wall, sits his host.

The verb sit is actually quite generous, and the one Link would use to describe Ravio’s position is _slump_. The Lorulean’s head has lolled downwards, chin resting against his chest at a surely uncomfortable angle, and his back is curving away from the set of bricks he’s chosen as his support. He’s got his arms loosely wrapped around his knees, and doesn’t look like he’s waking up anytime soon.

“ _Are you kidding…?_ ” is the first thing that Link mouths to himself, but despite his disgruntlement, he isn’t resentful. He just fails to understand why Ravio would _do that_ – the very reason he’d refused the bed was out of politeness, so that his host could make use of it, but his stubbornness is apparently boundless and has pushed him as far as to shun it himself. Which is idiotic as best. Propped against the wall, he looks small and strained, and Link is willing to bet his neck will be aching for days.

“ _Well._ ” He sits up and reaches towards the ceiling, stretching noisily. A few bones audibly crack back into place. His host’s strange behaviour isn’t necessarily a bad thing, since it gives him the much needed possibility to snoop around a little while he’s out cold. So far, so good : he’s in the right place, with the right person sleeping on the floor, and he hasn’t been asked to vacate the premises yet, all very good signs. Still, a little planning ahead has never hurt anyone.

The interior of Ravio’s shop is much clearer now that morning sunlight has washed away all of its shadows. The walls seem further apart, the windows wider – it occurs to Link that it isn’t unlike his home in its disposition. That, perhaps, had been why he’d fallen asleep without an afterthought. The displays, too, are now visible and illuminated, allowing him to peer inside with his face far too close to the glass and find out what it is exactly that Ravio is selling.

And frankly, he doesn’t find out much.

It’s not the light’s fault (it’s being very helpful), nor the glass cases’ (they’re a little dusty but perfectly see-though) : it’s mostly his. He can see the objects inside each display, but he doesn’t know what the hell they are.

They’re all more or less shaped like staffs, although a lot shorter than any he’s seen; then again, he hasn’t seen many, and those were carried by the mages of Hyrule’s army. If he had to say, he’d guess they’re the length of his forearm. More or less identical, they differ from each other only in colour and design at their top – except one set aside in a bigger case, which genuinely just looks like a big spiky hammer. None of them give any hints alluding to their purpose.

Link tries to make one of the boxes budge, but they all bear a little golden lock and no amount of shaking can unhinge their lids. The staffs rattle inside harmlessly. Some are faintly glowing, and cast a colourful light on the walls of the cases. It’s all very mysterious. He leans in a little more, hardly feeling the tip of his nose bumping into the glass –

Then Ravio chirps : “Good morning there !” and Link’s heart nearly bursts right out of his chest.

He clutches at his chest and gives his host a burning scowl, trying his hardest not to go into cardiac arrest. He takes the deep breaths he didn’t know he’d been holding and closes his eyes a moment. Beneath his eyelids, his sight pulses red.

“Generally people answer back something along the lines of ‘good morning to you too !’ but glaring is fine as well.” Link opens his eyes to find him staggering up to his feet, groaning as he goes. As expected, he looks like every tendon in his body is screaming. “Interested in the displays ?”

“ _I was just looking_ ,” Link signs over-defensively. He’s still a little jumpy.

“Well, no harm in that, that’s what they’re for !” Ravio adjusts his belt buckle with one hand and swipes his hair out of his eyes with the other. He hobbles over to when Link is standing and gives him a grin incredibly bright, for someone who’s just woken up.

“With all the fuss yesterday,” he says, “I never got to welcome you properly.” Thus, he coughs into his hand and puts on his best customer service voice : “Welcome to Ravio’s shop ! The most wonderful of workshops for anyone interested in alternate energy sources and experimental weaponry. Here to cater to all your whacky needs. Engineering of all kinds, for astonishingly low prices !”

Link stares at him blankly for a second, and then admits : “ _I only understood one word out of two.”_

“I make stuff and sell weapons I designed.”

“ _Ah !”_

Ravio nods and taps one of the displays with a chipped nail. “What you’re setting your fine gaze upon is my very own collection of magic rods. It pains me to call it _magic_ , but it’s the simplest way to explain it.”

“ _Oh, oh !”_ Link’s face light up with recognition. “ _Does it have something to do with, uh, electring ?_ ”

“Electricity,” Ravio corrects. He looks at Link with shining eyes. “Where’d you hear about _that ?_ Lurelei ?”

Link’s nod only fuels his excitement. “So you know how it works ?”

“ _Nope. They said I couldn’t hope to understand it._ ”

“That’s a bit harsh, don’t you think ? It isn’t _that_ complicated. All you have to understand is that everything in our world is made of very small particles, called atoms. Now, those actually contain _smaller_ particles, really really tiny ones, and amongst those there’s one called an electron. So, right, when an atom loses an electron, it becomes –“

He cuts his blabber off mid-sentence, and upon finding Link standing there with pure incomprehension written all over his face, shakes his head. “Well, anyway, there’s a reaction that creates energy and we call that energy ‘electricity’. We don’t know everything about it yet, but it can be used in a lot of ways. I tried to use its basic principles to make the rods functional.”

The only thing that Link understands from his explanation is why Lurelei had described Ravio like he had, and briefly he wonders if it’s the Triforce of Wisdom or the guy’s boundless enthusiasm talking. No doubt, it’s a bit of both.

“ _So what do they do…?_ ” he asks, not wanting to leave his generous teachings completely unanswered.

“Depends.” Ravio’s hand wanders, and settles on the case containing the red coloured rod. On the end, a flame-shaped sculpture has been attached. “This one is the Fire Rod, so it harnesses the power of fire. Big columns of it ! Can’t tell you exactly how – it’s an engineer’s secret.” And he gives Link a wink.

“ _It creates fire out of thin air ?_ ”

“Ayup, sir, that it does ! And this one,” (this time he points to a green rod, with some sort of helix) “can create gusts of wind and carry you – or your enemies, that is – up a few metres in the air for short periods of time. Not good for flying, but fun to use. One of my personal favourites.”

Thus, he presents each of his inventions with loving pride, and Link is introduced amongst other things to a bow that reloads on its own, a very fancy grappling hook which is the only more or less normal object on sale, and the massive spiked hammer he’d noticed earlier on which can (or so boasts its inventor) create waves strong enough to knock bystanders out upon impact. It’s the story of the kettle all over again, and Link is in way above his head, but he does his best to nods as he goes. When Ravio finishes he’s out of breath, beaming, and looking quite like a cat who got the cream.

“Impressive, right ?” His fingers stop trailing from box to box and loop around his belt instead. “And all for sale. By the look o’ that sword over there, you’re an adventurer yourself – interested in any of my fine wares, per chance ?”

Link hasn’t followed his speech attentively enough to be sure, but Ravio is wearing a very laid-back smile that reminds him gently that every decision in his life isn’t crucial. Having made it this far, he’s allowed to blow out a bit of steam – everything doesn’t have to be so very serious. “ _Dunno,”_ he tells him off-handedly, making a show of examining his nails. _“I’d need some kind of demonstration. Maybe a discount. I’ve come a long way to meet you, see…”_

“Demonstrations can be arranged for esteemed guests such as yourself… what was it you added, though ?” Ravio cups his ear slyly. “I didn’t quite catch it.”

“ _Discount ?_ ”

“Hm ?”

“ _A d-i-s-c-o-u-n-t !”_ Link signs with playful exasperation. “ _Surely you know the word._ ”

“Don’t ring no bells.”

“ _Really ?_ ”

“Oh, yes.”

“ _Truly ?_ ”

“Never heard the word, sir.”

“ _Most unfortunate,”_ Link finishes, and turns his back on his host, nose high in the air. Ravio trots around him and crosses his arms.

“Either way,” he informs him, “you wouldn’t qualify for a d– …dis– whatever it is, mister. You’ve come a long way, says ye ? You’ve yet to tell me why, says I !”

“ _Shan’t tell you a word until I’ve eaten something._ ” Link isn’t a hundred percent sure what ‘shan’t’ means, but he risks it.

“Well then breakfast is in order, don’t you think ?”

Link does, and is visibly pleased when his host disappears behind his fancy curtain to fetch something to eat. His stomach is growling just quietly enough to avoid him embarrassment. Ravio soon returns with a plateful of pancakes, balancing a glass bottle of juice in the crook of his elbow. Together, they settle at a small table pulled out from under the desk for the occasion, and dig in.

Then, they talk.

“So you’re telling me,” Ravio repeats slowly, “that there’s no actual threat.”

He’s lying sprawled across the floor, not unlike a starfish – their talk has been long, and isn’t nearly finished. Link, for his part, is half-resting against the couch, half trailing down against the carpet. In his boredom he’s pulled the collar of his tunic over his chin, and abandoned his cloak entirely; Ravio is currently using it as a pillow.

“ _Right !”_ he signs, the fabric covering his face making his nod look ridiculous. “ _Nothing. There’s always the prophecies and all the impending doom business but FACTUALLY there’s no danger. None.”_

Ravio lets out a hefty sigh. “But then why the hell would the Queen want two heroes on the lookout ? I can’t pretend I’ve ever understood politics, but…” He leaves his sentence unfinished and blows his cheeks out prettily.

“ _Because she’s as superstitious as every other Hylian, I guess._ ” He shrugs. “ _I didn’t really have the time to wonder. I was just really relieved she wasn’t asking me to go to war or something._ ”

“Ah yes, the famous royal brand of overzealous religious beliefs.”

(Link has no idea what overzealous means, but he has the sense to keep himself from asking.)

When Ravio speaks again, his tone is much lighter. “You know, this is all mad ! A mirror kingdom. You said you _walked_ through it ? Run me through it again.”

“ _Man, I’ve already told you three times –“_

“Just once more,” Ravio pleads, and there’s a sparkle in his eye that coaxes Link into it.

“ _The mirror’s been there for about three centuries, or something. The previous Triforce holders built it for some reason, and no one’s touched it since. And its surface looks flat and normal, right, but it doesn’t reflect people. Only the background. When I touched it, it felt like putting my hand against the surface of a lake. Passing through just felt like running water.”_

“See, that’s _incredible !_ How did they make something like that ? A link between worlds…”

“ _Magic, probably. Isn’t it always magic or godsent powers around here ?”_

“Still, there has to be some science behind it.” Ravio’s staring at the ceiling, and his eyes look almost distant. A finger scratches at the area above his knee. “I’d love to see it myself.”

Link forces on a smile at that one. “ _Well, great news ! You’re coming back with me, so you’ll get to study it all you want.”_

There’s a snort from the other side of the room. “Don’t get ahead of yourself there, Mr Hero ! You’re under the mistaken impression that I’ve agreed.”

“ _It’s just a little trip,_ ” he signs, ignoring the nickname. This has been his argument for the past hour. “ _As I’ve said, there’s no big demon to fight or anything. We just need you to stand as a lookout for a few weeks, and then happily trot back home !_ ”

Ravio goes through the trouble of sitting up, and Link feels his eyes roll back into his head again. By the looks of it, they’re about to have the same back-and-forward for the fifth or sixth time.

“Ah, yes. But first of all,” (and he holds up a finger to accompany his speech) “I can’t just leave my shop all on its own ! Merchants are the saddest sort, because we don’t get to take holidays. Second,” (his finger is joined by another) “I have no intention of putting myself in any form of danger – don’t cut me off – even _theoretical_ , because I for one value my little life. Third,” (and he puts particular emphasis on this point, raising his ring finger to gang with the others) “I’m not the Hero, so your Queen would probably have a good laugh, finish her cup of special blend tea and send you right back here again.”

“ _Okay, first of all, that’s bullshit._ ” Link responds to Ravio’s raised eyebrows with a grumpy look of his own that quiets his host for the moment. “ _Everyone in Rowmore loves everyone else and it would take you about ten seconds to find someone willing to keep an eye on the shop. ALSO I doubt you’d been working for the Queen for free._ ”

Ravio’s cheeks have flushed a little, but Link can’t tell if it’s from embarrassment or frustration. Either way, he’s sulkily silent, giving the Hylian the opportunity to continue.

“ _Second, okay, that’s a pretty good point. But you have a knight’s training, right ? Hilda – I mean, the Queen more or less told me that. So even if the theoretical evil turns out to be real evil, you can defend yourself decently._ ”

“I never had any intention to ever use it,” Ravio mumbles from his spot. He’s staring intensely at his knees. He adds something under his breath, but it’s too quiet, and when Link asks him to repeat it he refuses.

“ _Which brings me to my third point… I mean, look at me._ ”

Ravio does, begrudgingly.

“ _Then look at you. Well, I mean… you know.”_

“I don’t see how that relates to anything,” he says, but it’s clear he does.

“ _Yes you do._ ”

“OK – I do. I’m Lorule’s ‘version’ of you, right ? That’s what you’re saying. So I must be the Hero of _this_ kingdom, since you’re the other one’s.”

“ _Mhm._ ”

“But you’re in the wrong place with the wrong person – the actual Hero is and always has been the fella with the Triforce of Courage, and that’s not me. Surely _someone_ must have told you that.”

“ _Don’t sass me,_ ” Link signs crossly. Ravio sticks his tongue out at him. “ _Anyway, don’t you think that’s where I looked first ? I’m not here on a pleasant hiking trip. Yuga is a nutcase and definitely not the Hero. I know because I –“_

And there he stops and bites his tongue, because he has it : he finally has his trump card, his royal flush, his secret hand. And thus, he has a plan.

“ _I’d feel it if he were the right person. And he’s not, he’s a psychopath._ ”

“Oh, oh, you’d feel it ?” His host’s face lights up with a teasing smile. “And what are you getting from me, Mr Hero ? Feeling those heroic vibes ?”

“ _Well, yeah,”_ he says, scratching the back of his neck. He isn’t lying. Whether it’s the almost frantic thirst for knowledge he’s got going or the easy-going smiles he’s so generous with, Ravio is a comfortable person to be around. “ _I just think that the Triforces aren’t necessarily the only things the Hero’s identity is based upon. Maybe the Goddesses give him the powers that he needs to fulfil his role._ ”

“I thought you didn’t have faith in them.”

 _“I don’t, but I’m goddamn running out of arguments._ ”

They both sigh simultaneously and turn away from each other. They’re going around in circles, not getting through to each other, and their frustration turns into elongated silence that crackles through the air.

After a while, Ravio slides over to the couch and sits against it besides Link. “All the heroes were called Ravio. I guess on your side they were all called Link. But things can change, right ? Even when they’re stuck, they can metamorphose into something new. I never had a knack for the sword.”

Link gives a half smile and gestures to the Master Sword, still sheathed. _“And I have no idea how to use this thing._ ”

“See ? When my twelfth birthday came ‘round and the Triforce of Courage didn’t show, I thought it was my fault. I’d never wanted to fight, or even learn how to. I spent all my free time in the library with Hildie or in the town, hanging around with the blacksmiths and potion sellers. I’ve always wanted to know how everything works ! I figured I wasn’t worthy, which was upsetting, but it was also a blessing of sorts to not have to be the Hero. Even though Yuga ended up using the title to blackmail the whole royal family and I had to run away, I was kind of glad.

It’s not that I don’t want to protect my kingdom ! I’ve worked on all these weapons hoping that someone better might come along, and need them to triumph. Someone with backbone, like you. I’m more efficient in the side-lines. And I want to help you, I really do, but I’m just not the person you’re looking for.”

And with that, his fingers thumbing clumsily at the hem of his left sock, he pulls it down just a little and lets it bunch beneath his knee. The Triforce of Wisdom pulses irregularly on his skin.

Link decides that opening up calls for opening up and shows Ravio is right shoulder. His host, happy to have a closer look at it, leans in a little and runs his fingers down the mark. His eyes widen. “It’s…scarred.”

“ _I grew up like any other kid. The only thing I knew about the Legend was what I found in the old picture books the adults kept around. Everyone was deeply religious, but I never knew what all the fuss was about. And then when I was twelve, this showed up. So the first thing I did was try to cut it off._ ”

“You…?” Ravio’s eyes, so big and so green, shine at him sorrowfully.

“ _It didn’t work,_ ” he continues in a rush. “ _The skin grew back eventually and it was there again. Then I tried to cover it with scarring, but it shone on top. I ended up wrapping bandages around it for years, and eventually sewed a sleeve onto all my shirts to hide it. I really didn’t want to be anyone’s hero. I had my sheep and my village and that was enough. But as I told you before, they came and found me anyway.”_

Ravio has listened attentively and in complete silence, but anguish has clouded his face. “Then why are you doing this ? Why didn’t you refuse, or run away…? Why didn’t you save yourself ?”

“ _Don’t you think I tried ? There was no room for discussion, otherwise we wouldn’t be having our little heart-to-heart on the floor over here. I was pressured._ ”

There’s a paused.

“Pressured ?” Ravio asks.

“ _Threatened, if you’re one for precision._ ”

“Threatened.”

“ _Yes._ ”

“By who ?”

“ _Queen Zelda.”_

Another pause.

“Wait, what ?”

Link shrugs, which doesn’t satisfy Ravio at all. “Your _Queen_ threatened you ? With what, death ?”

“ _She said they’d burn down my village, including its people, if I refused to cooperate._ ”

“Now, I’m no expert, but isn’t that totally immoral ?”

“ _That’s what I said !_ ” Link groans, letting his head drop back onto the sofa behind them. “ _But she said it was for the ‘greater good of Hyrule’ and that ‘a few lives had to be sacrificed to save millions’ yada yada yada.”_

“Huh,” Ravio says, and that’s all. He looks like he’s thinking hard.

“ _I know it’s really fucked up, but I didn’t have the time to think about it and none of her ministers looked very shocked. Mostly I did my best to immediately agree and she sent me off here the same day._ ”

“Sounds like she was eager to see you gone,” he says mysteriously, and Link watches him frown with mounting confusion. “Did you leave someone special back there ?”

“ _My friend Rine,_ ” Link tells him. “ _She’s like my little sister.”_

“For her sake I think you’d better be quick in your return.”

At this point, Link’s frustration goes off like fireworks in his head and he gives a grunt. _“Hey, what’s up with you ? You keep talking like a cheap prophet and not elaborating !_ ”

“Sorry.” Ravio rubs his forehead, eyes screwed shut. “The Triforce of Wisdom is kind of useless. You probably get bravery boosts and intuition, but I just get vague feelings.”

Link thinks back to how his stomach tended to clench at critical times.

“For instance, when I started working on the Fire Rod I felt that something was going to go wrong. So I had the sense to go outside to tinker with it, and saved my house. I _did_ burn down a small forest, but it was no big loss.” He allows himself a grin. “Also a few weeks ago I felt someone was coming to find me, but didn’t know who. That’s why I closed the shop. I just get bursts of very vague predictions.”

“ _And you’re telling me Rine might be in danger ?_ ”

He lays an appeasing hand on Link’s shoulder, squeezing a little. “Hey, mister, calm down. As I said, it’s imprecise and often way off. It could be months before anything happens, and that something might be her falling harmlessly into a lake. Man, I can feel you tense up !”

Link does his best to relax. Ravio’s right – every single muscle in his body is rigid and tense. He lets his host sink his fingers into his shoulder and loosen up the knots. The Lorulean surely has liquid comfort or some substituent on his fingertips, because Link can almost feel himself melt.

“There you go,” he says, patting his arm. Link is almost sorry to have it end. “Now, now. Don’t freak out ! As I said, I’m willing to help, but I doubt your Queen’ll be pleased if I waltz in with the wrong Triforce. And she already sounds pretty scary, so…”

“ _But,_ ” Link starts, but Ravio shushes him in an instant.

“So what you need is a way to bring Yuga with you. Maybe knock him out. If the mirror passage is in the castle, you won’t have to carry him far, and even if he’s feral you’d have completed your mission. Bring in the Hero of Lorule : done. He’s barking mad but that’s none of your concern.”

“ _No. It has to be you.”_

“Buddy, you’re a little too stubborn. I won’t fit the bill.”

“ _Well then we find a way to make you fit the bill.”_

“Okay, genius,” Ravio says, crossing his arms. “How are we gonna do that ? _”_

 _“First she’ll have to admit that we look the same, so you have to be my counterpart._ ”

“Counterpart !” he smiles. “That’s cute.”

“ _And then we need solid proof that you’re worthy of the title._ ”

“S’cuse me,” Ravio deadpans. “Have you been listening to his conversation at all ? We don’t have that and probably can’t get it, since I’m _not._ ”

“ _Shut up_ ,” Link tells him. “ _I already have a pretty good idea. Wanna hear it ?_ ”

“Oh, absolutely.”

“ _Then stop talkin’ shit about my suggestions.”_

“Dutifully noted,” Ravio says, and locks his lips shut with an imaginary key.

“ _I’m willing to bet that you can lift the Master Sword. That would be a pretty big guarantee, right ? Zelda won’t be able to ignore that, and she’ll be glad to have its powers on her side. I know Yuga can’t lift it, so surely you must be able to. We have to try that._ ”

Ravio responds with sensible silence.

“ _You can talk, now._ ”

“Ah ! Well, y’see, I simply have to admit that you’ve made quite the compelling point, Mr Hero. If you’re right and Yuga can’t lift the sword, then there are two possibilities : one is that no one can, because the holder of Courage is a bit of bastard to put it mildly, and two that I can because it recognizes what you earlier called hero vibes, or something.”

“ _You said that, not me !_ ”

“Anyway,” he drives on cheerfully, “it’s worth a try. The only problem with that is that Lorule’s Master Sword is in a not very happy place.”

This piques Link’s curiosity, and he leans in a little as he signs. “ _The royal family doesn’t have it ?_ ”

“Oh, no, no.” Ravio shakes his head like a wet dog. “Reaching it is a kind of challenge in itself. It’s in the very heart of Sweetstone forest.”

“ _Sweetstone forest ?_ ” He reaches for his bag and pulls out the custom map Hilda had given him – there it is, south of Rowmore by a bit. It’s twice the size of Darkwell forest, by the look of it. He’s glad to see it isn’t far from Lorule Castle, but dejectedly notes that the quickest way there is by boat again. “ _There ? That doesn’t sound that bad._ ”

His host gives an ominous cackle that bounces off the windmill’s brick walls. Link feels a shiver run down his spine. “Only by name, my friend. Only by name. Hasn’t Hildie told you that forests in Lorule are to be avoided at all costs ?”

“ _She did, but…_ ”

“No buts about it ! Sweetstone is the apotheosis of all forests, huge, standing to the sky for what may easily be twenty miles ! It’s black, crooked, lightless no matter the time of the day, and most importantly : It. Wants. You. Dead !”

“ _Is it me, or do you sound a little excited about it ?”_

Ravio’s face flushes once more. He wears it very well. “Maybe a bit. It’s an adventure ! And no one knows what’s inside most forests. I’d be glad to have a look around !”

“ _Well, good,”_ Link grins. “ _Because we’ve obviously going._ ”

Lurelei isn’t surprised when the first rap on the door reaches them. They throw the last letter into the fire and watches it blacken slowly. It falls apart in the flames, consuming itself, and becomes a pile of ashes like the dozen before it. Fire is a beautiful thing. If they are one day to die, they’d like to burn and leave nothing behind.

The second rap is more forceful, but they don’t move. Even the ferocious tapping that follows can’t pull a single movement out of them. They’re thinking, hard and fast. They’re also regretting the note. It had been a risk, and for the second time in their life they’d let their emotions get in the way of their rationality.

They watch mutely as a tall axe rips shreds through the metal of the door. Behind the hole, several men stand on guard. They’re dressed in black and masked, as expected. The moonlight shines on the daggers they carry at their belt. Lurelei, for their part, has a musket. They know they won’t be able to take all of them out, but they’ll make a dent in their ranks. That they will.

The hole widens and becomes a passageway. One by one the dark figures climb inside, knives at the ready. Lurelei’s hands tighten around the barrel. Their index curls over the trigger.

The first figure moves, and the first gunpowder is used up. Blood splatters on the ground. One down – another nineteen to go.


	12. Chapter 12

It takes four days for the unlikely pair to prepare for their journey, and they spend most of that time learning a little about each other.

It’s all in the details, but it’s a rather fun experience – it takes little time for them to notice that they crack their left wrist in the same way before getting down to something, although Ravio tilts it counter-clockwise. Where they share appearance, they inevitably share habits, and several times a day they find each other on tiptoes trying to reach the top shelf. At different times of the day, they yell at each other for biting their nails, then go back to doing it themselves.

We cannot, however, say that they have nothing new to discover.

Where Link has an attention span of about three and a half seconds, Ravio stays focused for _hours._ His concentration, seemingly unbreakable (and tested on numerous occasions), absolutely baffles his guest. On the second day of his stay, Link goes out to the market to fetch some supplies for the trip. They only need food for a week at most, and Link hasn’t touched any of the dried meat or canned vegetables he’d been given in Hyrule, so his expedition is meant to be short; true to his nature, he ends up getting distracted and going on a long walk around Rowmore’s gates. When he reaches the shop again, it’s night-time. And yet Ravio is still sitting at his desk, a screwdriver balancing between his thumb and index, tinkering at his rods with no indication that he’d moved, at all, in the span of the last four hours. Link, who has absolutely no experience with such a thing, is faintly freaked out.

Ravio, for his part, realises very quickly that Link has a few screws loose up there. For instance, the man has no concept of fear. None at all. If asked to walk off the edge of a cliff, he would probably shrug and ask if he was supposed to climb up again afterwards. At first, he guesses it’s a side-effect of the mark embedded in his arm – godsent recklessness, or the likes – but it’s more than that. He shows no signs of knowing the consequences of risk-taking. This is probably how he’d managed to punch six Hylian guards in the jaw. He hadn’t thought about it twice. Actually, he probably hadn’t thought about it once. He’d just done it. He runs on pure instinct at all times, and boy is that scary !

Both their quirks end up meeting when Ravio asks him to try out some of the weapons – “any you’d like !” They still have a price attached, but payment is temporarily brushed to the side. Temporarily. Ravio insists on this fact.

Link knows that they’ll need to be properly equipped; Ravio has spent countless hours describing the folkloric horrors that awaited them in Sweetstone Forest in great detail, from the number of viciously sharp claws to the specific type of mortal poison contained in them, and how it would kill them slowly and painfully. The Hylian remembers the funny look on Ravio’s face when he’d just nodded and admitted they’d need to be a bit more careful than usual, although he can’t imagine what might have caused it. In any case, he’s aware of the fact the piggy bank will need to be cracked open in order for them to reach their goal. And so he agrees.

They stand together in the yard behind the windmill. Ravio has settled comfortably on a wooden stool, somehow managing to sit cross-legged on its tiny surface. He’s got a tattered notebook open in his lap and a piece of charcoal hanging from the corner of his mouth. He gives Link a cocky grin and says : “Go on then !”

His first weapon of choice is the very pretty Magic Bow™ (yes, he’s forced to sign the trademark several times), wooden and covered in pretty patterns burnt into its frame that remind Link of the wooden lances most hunters use in his village. It’s strangely light in his hand.

“ _What do I aim for ?”_

Ravio points to a red cross above the doorway back into the shop. The wood all around it is splintered and full of holes. “The paint mark is what I used to try it for any defects. You can get closer if you like !”

He’s not sure he wants to know, but he asks anyway : “ _What were the defects ?”_

“Nothing to worry about !” Ravio says, waving a hand dismissively. “It fired backwards a few times and nearly put my eye out, but the risk of it malfunctioning again is minimal. No, really ! Don’t make that face!”

Link reluctantly stops making that face and takes a few steps back. He tests the bow’s string and finds it bounces nicely. He’s only used one on three or four occasions (and actually hit his target only on two), but there’s something about it that makes him feel confident. Cautiously, he pulls back an arrow and closes one eye.

The arrow flies off and hits a spot about eight inches off. He deflates faintly.

“Not bad !” Ravio scribbles furiously into his notebook, pausing only to give Link a brief thumbs-up. “For a first try, and from that distance… Come over here !”

The Hylian makes his way over to his host and presses the bow into his open palm. A grateful smile is flashed his way. “The thing about this bow,” he explains, “is that it’s supposed to be really instinctive to use. I’d kind of like to adjust its aim a bit.”

Under his guest’s curious eye, Ravio pops a side of the bow open – a wooden panel comes off and is off-handedly given for Link to hold. Out of his belt he pulls a set of small bolts, three of which he sticks between gritted teeth, and that small screwdriver he’d been agonizing over the previous day. He pulls out a few screws, replaces them quickly before his mouth starts to taste of metal, and pulls on the string experimentally. It bounces sharper.

“Try it again !”

Link’s gaze is doubtful. “ _How will that have changed my aim ?”_

“Shut up and try it before you say something insulting !” Ravio huffs, and buries his face in his notebook again.

Link strolls back into his previous spot and tries to get the red cross into his line of sight. He lets the arrow fly off towards the target, where it hits only an inch off.

“ _Woah !_ ”

“That’s the stuff !” Ravio cheers, “So how does it feel ? D’you like it ? Are we taking it along on our pleasant little hike ?”

Link nods quickly, turning to look at the bow in his hand. It’s quick, light and silent. He doesn’t want to kill anything, but if a ten story-high monster with teeth as sharp as knives happens to be after their meat, the weapon’ll do the job, and do it well.

In a similar fashion, Link tries out every item that might prove of use on their trip. They’ve put the Sand Rod and the fancy Hookshot to the side – they’re both impractical and useless in the forest environment they’re to go trekking through. Everything else is meticulously tried out and either cast to the side or packed.

“So what about the boomerang ?”

“ _I’m not getting a feel for it…”_

“How about taking the hammer along ?”

“ _It’s too big to be packed !”_

“OK – after the adjustments, how does the Ice Rod feel ?”

“ _Icy. But I still don’t understand how to aim with it…”_

“You’re a hard sell, Mr Hero. Are we taking the Tornado Rod ?”

“ _Unless I can actually whack something with it, I’d rather not. Also being lifted so fast and so high is a bit traumatising.”_

“Damn…”

Ravio pauses his scribbling for a moment to wipe a few drops of sweat off his face. They’d started in the early morning, but the sun has since then risen and begun torturing them under its blazing heat. Link runs a hand through his hair in a similar manner and sighs.

“Well, well, well !” the merchant mumbles, looking down at his notes one last time. “You’ve tried all but one, apparently. And I sure hope it’s to your liking, or we’re leaving severely under-equipped.”

The last item in the pile is the mesmerizing Fire Rod. It glows warmly from its spot in the grass. Ravio nods at him, and Link picks it up. It’s hot in his hand.

“ _Are you sure this thing won’t burn my skin off ?_ ”

“Don’t be so dramatic ! You’re wearing gloves, you’ll be fine.”

So says you, Link’s eyes roll, but he goes back into his testing spot and wraps both his hands around the rod. He turns his back on the windmill and faces the little bush they’ve been using as their target for more destructive weapons. It’s already dripping with ice-cold water and half embedded in the ground, but there are still enough branches upright to aim at.

“ _I just…flick it, right ?”_

“Right !” Ravio demonstrates from his spot. “Just flick it a bit. Don’t do it too hard, though, or you’ll end up hurling fire at the wrong place. And I happen to like my house !”

Little flicks. Link’s left hand tightens around the rod, pointed at the bush; he tips his wrist out experimentally and snaps it back into place. The rod spits red sparks, and from its tip emerges a column of fire at least Link’s size and height. For a moment, it stays quite still at the end of the weapon, and Link is transfixed – the flames are rotating somehow, spinning into a red tornado hot enough to reduce the grass in front of him to ashes, and it’s a mesmerising sight. He finds himself leaning in a little, eyes full of flashing lights.

“Hey, Link !”

His neck immediately snaps back to look at Ravio; the fire column is shaken loose and goes hurling towards the bush. This time, it’s finished – where sheer smacking and ice have failed, fire turns what’s left of the greenery into charred little sticks before dying out. It leaves a dark trail of burnt grass in its wake.

Link’s face stings with pain.

Ravio is already at his side, and slightly out of breath. He tilts Link’s chin towards him with a strong hand and frowns hard enough to make his forehead crease. Then he snatches the Fire Rod out of his hand and tosses it a few feet away.

“What the hell is up with you ?!” he shouts. His hands are balled into fists. “Why did you get so close ? Have you lost your goddamn mind ?”

Stunned into silence, Link lowers his gaze. Above his eye, pain continues to bloom. He shuts it quickly.

“Can’t you tell when something – I dunno, like _blazing fire !!!_ – is dangerous ? Who the hell sticks their head into something like that ?” He reaches up and runs his thumb over the spot that’s been causing Link such anguish; beneath his touch, it stings crazily. The Hylian cringes back.

“Now you’ve gone and gotten yourself hurt,” he says, a little quieter. His anger has visibly steamed out of him. He lets go of Link’s face and takes a step back.

“ _Is it bad…?”_ Link dares to ask, eye still screwed shut. The pain isn’t getting any better.

Ravio rubs the bridge of his nose, suddenly looking very tired. “No. Yes. Maybe – hey, I don’t know ! I’m no medic. It’s a…pretty nasty burn, though.”

He turns away and makes for the pile of items they’ve discarded. Crouching besides them, he starts packing them back into their boxes. Link trails behind him and sits down in the cross, hugging his knees close.

“ _I’m sorry.”_

“What for ?” Ravio laughs feebly. “I’m the one who’s sorry. I freaked out.”

“ _I got you worried. You freaked out because you were worried.”_

“That I was.” He pauses, and closes his fingers over the Fire Rod. “Guess we won’t be packing this one either then, huh ?”

A smirk spreads across Link’s lips. “ _No way. It’s coming along !”_

The incredulity on Ravio’s face is nearly comical.

“You’re kidding, right ? You’re a menace to yourself with that thing ! If we’re running from a three-headed snake or something, I won’t have the time to put out your flames and drag your ass to safety !”

“ _It’s fine,”_ Link signs, and it’s final. “ _I won’t make the same mistake twice. If the forest is so full of horrible monsters, we’ll want to have it with us. Pack it !”_

“Oh dear, Mr Hero,” Ravio sighs. His bottom lip is jutting out in a pout, but he sets the rod apart from the others nonetheless. “If the monsters don’t give me a heart attack, you will.” He zips up his bag and throws it over his shoulder. Link moves to pick up the rod and the bow, but a hand is thrusted in his way. Ravio turns to him and glares.

“Don’t ! I’ll take them too.”

“ _But your hands are already full,”_ Link remarks, amused. He watches the merchant heave his bag higher onto his back and tuck both remaining items under his arm.

“Doesn’t matter !” he huffs. With each step he takes, he nearly tips over. “You’re so careless, you’ll go and get injured again. Leave it to me !”

It’s a peculiar form of caring, but Link recognizes it for what it is and doesn’t object any further. Together they hobble back to the door and manage to push the overfilled bag through. Without bothering too much about the displays, Ravio piles up the cases on the nearest table and disappears behind his curtain again; there’s a series of curses, tumbling sound and a few cracks before he emerges, rubbing the back of his head and clutching a thin roll of bandage.

Link gets the message and pulls his first-aid kit out of his bag. From the way his host is charging towards him, he can already tell the mending won’t be his to do – he settles down on the desk chair and closes his injured eye. Ravio kneels besides him and flicks the kit open.

“It isn’t too bad. I mean, it’s not leaking pus, which is generally a good sign. You couldn’t imagine the amounts of injuries I got while I was first trying the rods out…”

He lets out a good-humoured snort to lighten the mood, but Link’s gaze is already trailing. Ravio’s face is tilted down, but close enough for him to notice new details he hadn’t yet caught. He’s got a surprising number of cuts and scars on his neck and chin, as though hundreds of nails, bolts and springs had wriggled free from his inventions and hurled themselves, sharp side up, into his face. In fact, they probably had.

His hands are partially hidden under thick leather gloves, but his fingers tell the tale loud enough : white streaks and discoloured spots mark the spot of a past cut or burn. He’s a little curious about the story behind them, but the room is peacefully silent, and the time isn’t right to ask. He leans back a little and closes his other eye.

“Okay – it’s gonna sting like hell, but stay still, alright ? It’s only for a sec’.”

“ _Don’t I get a leather belt to bite down on ?”_ Link jokes.

“This isn’t an amputation, buddy ! You’ve just gone and burnt half your eyebrow off. And, well, some of your skin with it, obviously…”

Without so much as a warning, Ravio presses one of the kit’s compresses to the spot above Link’s eye; it’s clearly soaked with antiseptic, because Link _hisses_ and nearly bucks back. He catches himself and squeezes the sides of his chair until his knuckles turn white.

“There, there,” Ravio mutters gently, shifting onto his other knee. After a minute he takes the wet rag off Link’s eye and starts dabbing something cold and soft onto the spot instead. “I’m just puttin’ some cream on it. It prevents scarring, kind of – although I doubt you’re getting out of this one unscathed.”

Link sits through the process quietly, both eyes closed. Once the cream is properly applied, the merchant covers the wound with a thin layer of bandage. Then he taps Link’s knee with his knuckles and tells him : “You can open your eyes !”

“ _Both ?”_ Link asks, but doesn’t wait for an answer. His eyes fly open, and he pleasantly finds he can still see through both of them. A part of his upper vision is blocked out by bandaging just above his eyelid, but he’ll stop noticing it soon enough. Most importantly, no matter how many times he blinks, there’s no more pain blooming from his forehead. He gives Ravio a wide grin. “ _Thank you !”_

Ravio tells him it’s no problem, no problem at all, but that he doesn’t want to have to do it too often. Link solemnly promises not to get into needless danger and helps him pack away the medical kit. Then they go back to their careful supply planning, with two days left to spare.

On the day before their departure, Link takes a chance.

Ravio is busy cleaning up the place – he has this sort of maniacal attachment to his shop, and refuses to leave it behind in anything less than a pristine state. Carpets are shaken outside, tables cleared and dusted, large boxes of scrunched up parchment emptied for what might be the first time in years. He, of course, refuses any help from Link, who’s forced to sit by the door (to avoid dirtying the newly mopped floors) and watch it all.

Now Ravio stands, wiping soot off his face, a hand resting on his hip – he looks tired, he looks dusty, and he looks faintly miserable. Link, leaning against the doorway with his sheath slung over his shoulder, thinks it’s now or never.

Without a word, he tosses him the Master Sword.

A faint look of panic flashes over Ravio’s face, but he catches it in time and gives Link an inquisitive look.

“What’s this for ?” he asks, swishing through the air experimentally with the sword’s tip. “Throwing sharp weapons at people isn’t very good sociable behaviour, by the way.”

There isn’t a trace of surprise on Link’s face. In fact, he’s just smirking with rippling smugness. “ _Feeling any pain in your hands ? Oh, I dunno, burning maybe ?”_

The merchant snorts and hands the sword back, hilt up. “Course not. Why would I ?”

“ _Well, knowing that’s Hyrule’s, you know, Master Sword…”_

“Oh, yeah.” A pause – and then : “What ?”

“ _It’s the Master Sword. You’re familiar with it, right ? The one only the Hero can lift. That Master Sword.”_

“Hm.”

There’s a longer pause, during which they stare at each other blankly. It takes Ravio a full minute to process it, and when he does, his eyebrows nearly fly off his face.

“S-So, so, so,” he tries, but his tongue is leading a coup and refusing to cooperate. His face has flushed a pleasant pink, which he immediately attempts to hide behind his hands. It’s not very successful, and Link can still make out the little smile he’s wearing underneath.

“So !” he says again, taking a very deep breath. His hands drop back down to his side, where they fidget with the hems of his tunic. “So… So I can lift it, huh…?” His voice gets progressively quieter as he goes, and the sigh that marks the end of his sentence is nearly inaudible. His gaze is cast down, and he’s blinking very fast, but Link thinks he looks somewhat satisfied. There’s something happy about the twitch of his lips.

“ _Told you so,_ ” Link smiles. “ _It has to be you.”_

“That’s how you knew Yuga wasn’t the Hero, then ?” There’s the beginning of a laugh in his voice. “You just… tossed the Master Sword at his face ?”

Link blinks, and briefly remembers the frenzy, the fear, the harsh throb of his heart under Yuga’s looming shadow; his face twists into an uneasy grimace. “ _It wasn’t_ that _straight-forward, but essentially, yeah. It pulled him to the ground and burnt his hands.”_

“It did ?” Ravio says, and his tone carries a lot of hopefulness. Having faced Yuga, Link understands.

“ _Sure. He had blisters and everything. I’m pretty sure he lost a fingernail or two.”_

“I wish I’d been there to see,” he sighs wistfully. He lifts his head up, and Link finds that the usual spark of energy has returned to his eyes, although it’s flickering. “Wow ! I guess I have the hero vibes you talked about after all, Mr Hero. That’s…surprising.”

Link is pretty sure he hears him sniffle. “… _are you going to cry ?”_ he asks uncertainly. The words are barely out and they already sound so insensitive. Catching Ravio’s shoulders shaking feebly, he tries again : _“I mean, are you alright…?”_

“Yes ! I’m OK. No need to worry.” He takes a moment to wipe his eyes and flashes his regular bright grin. “It’s just…” (vaguely he gestures towards his knee) “My life keeps taking weird turns. It did seven years ago, and it’s doing it again now.”

The Hylian has never been very good at comforting others. Now he takes a leaf out of his host’s book and remembers how, every time he’d been upset or distressed, Ravio had had a soothing touch for him. So Link steps forward and lays his hand on Ravio’s shoulder.

“ _I know how you feel._ ”

Unsure of what to do, he prepares to withdraw – sensing him moving back, Ravio unexpectedly pulls him into a bone-crushing hug, clutching the back of his tunic tightly. The sudden warmth of his arms around Link’s middle, and the force of his movement, are enough to make the Hylian stumble back. Together they waver, sway, and threaten to topple over, but Ravio’s grip doesn’t loosen. If anything, it gets firmer.

Link’s arms are tense and heavy by his sides. Cautiously, with experimental slowness, he lifts them and loops them around Ravio’s back. Then, he places his palms flat against his back and squeezes back. Ravio responds with a soothed mumble, whispered against Link’s shoulder. They’re both very still, and very conscious of their own heartbeat.

Uncomfortable with prolonged close contact (or rather _unfamiliar_ with it, for other than Rine, no one at home had taught him very much about hugging), Link’s first instinct is to wait until his host has calmed down and break away. He waits a great part out of kindness, and a small part out of empathy – seeing someone cry is embarrassing for both parties, and worse ground yet. But a minute passes, and then a second, and he finds himself leaning in, hooking his chin over Ravio’s shoulder. The warmth surrounding him holds a foreign comfort that reminds him of Rine’s own affectionate tackles. It also reminds him, less bitterly, of the fact he isn’t alone. Not with his feelings, nor on his journey. And that thought, that _feeling_ , brings him more peace than anything else could.

“ _I packed it !”_

“You did not !” A half dozen apples are tossed into the air.

“ _Stop throwing food around ! I packed it last night, we ticked it off the list !”_

“It’s not in your bag. It’s not in my bag. It might be too hasty a conclusion, but I think that means it hasn’t been packed !”

“ _Well, it has to be somewhere, because I put it in myself ! I remember !”_

“OK, fine. If you’re so certain of your memory, come and find it yourself !”

Huffing and puffing, Link switches positions with Ravio and crouches in front of their luggage. They’ve kept stocks to a bare minimum, and food plus first-aid and potions take up only one bag, furnished kindly by Ravio. Link’s bag homes the weapons they’re taking along and all the maps they’ve compiled. It’s the current object of scandal.

He rummages through it with mounting uncertainty that he’s careful to keep off his face. They’re looking for the boomerang, one of Ravio’s two items of choice for the journey, and its sudden disappearance on the morning of their departure is causing quite a stir.

“It’s bright yellow...” Ravio despairs, kneeling a few feet behind him. He’s going through the other bag again, spilling half of its contents onto the carpet in the process. “How could we lose something bright yellow in the first place ?”

“ _We haven’t lost it. It’s somewhere. Have you checked the backyard ?_ ”

“I thought you packed it last night !”

“ _So did I !”_ Link snaps, but neither of them is actually angry. If anything, their mounting emotion has resembled excitement more than anything else. Ravio, for instance, is shaking his head disapprovingly, but the corners of his lips keep twitching up. It’s a tick Link has been dealing with only slightly better. “ _Do you really need it, anyway ? Won’t the bombs do ?”_

Ravio’s eyes roll back with deliberate laziness. “I told you already. Every weapon is crafted differently and with a different use in mind ! The bombs are slow ammunition, and if a venomous snake with legs comes hurling at me, I’d like to be able to act fast.”

The image is enough to make Link snort. He pauses in his search to scan the shop’s displays, but nothing helpful catches his eye. Thus his hands return to their emptying; his fingers brush against the bottom of the bag, and amongst the crumbs, something curvy crops up. He seizes it victoriously and pulls it out. “ _That venomous snake won’t have legs for very long ! Check it out – I’d packed it after all.”_

“Wipe that smugness off your face,” Ravio tells him, and begins refilling his bag. Neither of them is very meticulous, and most items end up being unceremoniously shoved in. All three apples are tossed back with the rest.

“ _Uh-huh,”_ Link mouths. Doing the buckles on the front of his bag, he finds he’s actually in a good mood – for the first time since being dragged away from home, his misery is giving him a break. He doesn’t know what caused it, whether it be the sudden thrill of adventure, the closeness of his goal or his new company – and to him, it doesn’t matter. “ _Shouldn’t we get going, then ?”_

It takes only a brief look at his watch for Ravio to agree. “Damn ! The boat’s leaving in half an hour !”

Link is already on his feet and reaching for his cloak. He drapes it over his shoulder and tightens its clasps. It’s soon joined by the Master Sword’s sheath and his back, both slung over his head in a swift motion. With bandages still covering half of his forehead and scorch marks on his eyelid, he looks every inch an adventurer. Considering his nature, it’s quite a sight.

By the time he walks over the doorstep, Ravio has managed to work both of his bag’s straps over his shoulders. For once, the laces on his boots are done all the way and knotted with noticeable care. He brushes dust off his tunic and gives Link a nervous smile. “Ready ?”

“ _When you are._ ”

The merchant pivots and gives his little shop – his little _home –_ one last sweeping look. Then he steps out alongside Link and reaches to shut the door. Just as it’s swinging closed, keys jingling merrily in the lock, he gasps loudly and pushes it back open, making wood slam hard against the wall.

“Hold on just a second,” he tells Link, and disappears inside.

The Hylian holds on just a second, and when Ravio reappears in the doorway, he’s got an oversized striped scarf loosely draped around his neck. Its fabric is old and worn, but its thick knitting is pristinely clean. When he moves closer to lock the door, Link gets a whiff of lavender from it. Ravio doesn’t say a word, and so Link doesn’t ask. For now.

Once the key has been turned in the lock three times, they take a few strides back and observe the windmill from a distance. “Goodbye, tiny house,” Ravio says in the softest of voices. Link half expects him to burst into tears, but he just gives the wonky structure a long, affectionate look before spinning on his heels and starting on the path. He walks a confident and cheery walk so brisk that Link has to jog a few metres to catch up with it. When he does, all he finds in his companion’s face is brightness, and his peculiar form of scientific excitement he simply couldn’t understand – reassured to find him stable enough, he falls into his pace and together they walk down towards the docks, bags bumping rhythmically into their backs.

This is the moment it occurs to Link that he isn’t an escort. He isn’t accompanying Ravio to Sweetstone – once they reach their first goal, he won’t be leading him back to Lorule Castle. They’re going together. Together, he thinks, and watches their feet beat the trail in time. That’s a nice thought. He looks up at Ravio, and Ravio glances at him, and gives him an impish smile, and he finds himself thinking he’s in good company.

Will it make the boat ride any easier ? Ah, that might be a little too much to hope for.

“Newt.”

“Joh.”

“Newt !”

The tallest of the pair cranks his neck back irritably and stops in his tracks, only to find his partner missing. Huffing gracelessly, he scratches the bulging sore on his forehead with a filthy fingernail and calls : “Where the hell are you ?”

“Over here, you moron !” comes his reply. The second guard’s pudgy face pops out from behind the nearest wall, brushing against its bricks. “I’ve been calling for you !”

“Huh ?”

“Did you think I was saying your name for fun ?” The shorter man stomps on the ground, making his entire armour set clatter. “I’ve found something…” (he lowers his voice) “… _suspicious._ ”

Newt’s cheeks flare ridiculously at the mere whisper of the word. He hurries to his side and bends over to his level. “What is it ? Theft ? Arson ? Oh, oh, burglary ? Have you found a broken lock ?”

“Well actually,” Joh says, turning to face the alleyway, “It’s this giant pool of blood.”

Side by side, they stare at it silently for a moment.

“Oh,” says Newt, very faintly.

“Oh,” agrees Joh.

They stare a little more.

“So…” Newt scratches his forehead again. “Do you know why it’s there ?”

“Not yet,” Joh mutters reflectively, and steps around it with a trained knight’s caution. “But we will.”

“Any idea how ?”

“I guess we could start by following the bloody footprints that lead away from them, right ?”

“Huh,” Newt nods. “Yeah, that’s as good a start as any.”

He steps around the puddle with similar care, flattening himself against the wall – once they’re both on the other side of the glistening red pool, they begin stepping alongside the tracks and advance. Four steps later, they fall still again.

Newt leans in and gets closer to Joh’s ear. “So… this is the place, huh ?”

“Has to be.”

Gravely, they look upon the interior of the shop. Above the entrance, a crooked sign reads : _LURELEI’S EMPORIUM._

Inside, someone is whistling a merry tune.

Both guards give each other a long look and gulp simultaneously. The voice’s owner might be a cold-blooded killer, ranks above any miscreants they’ve arrested in their career. Thieves, yes. Trespassers, more often than not. Murderers…? Well, they weren’t too eager for a meeting.

Nonetheless, Newt, bearing the total sum of the braveness within him, manages to half knock against the wall. The whistling stops, and is replaced with a grumpy grumble that gradually comes closer. The two men huddle together, Newt attempting to hide behind his partner pitifully, and wait for the figure to step out of the shadows.

It does.

“What do you want ?”

“Excuse me,” Newt squeaks, trying his very best not to wet himself, “but would you happen to be the… the owner of this blood ?”

Lurelei pinches their nose and sighs. “Why, yes. Some of it.”

“Oh,” Newt says, and stops at that.

The shop owner gives them a brief lookdown which ends with an unimpressed grunt and leans their mop against the wall. They’re wearing a pink apron and lots and lots of bandages. Their nose sits crooked on their face, and when they grin, a few teeth show up missing. They stick a roll of tobacco in one of the newly emptied spaces and strike a match.

Joh takes a decisive step forward – and that’s saying, for a man so large and small at once. “That’s not very clear. Is it _your_ blood, or did you… make it spill ?”

“Make it spill !” Lurelei cackles. “Good one. You two fellas are the best of the best, aren’t ya ? The most skilled amongst the skilled.”

Oblivious to the irony, Newt and Joh beam.

“To answer your question, it was a bit of both. But mostly, that’s my blood. An awful lot of it, don’t you think ?”

They both very much agree.

“Anyways,” Lurelei continues, coughing up a cloud of smoke, “You two gentlemen’ll need to step out of the way. I’m doing a spot of spring cleanin’, y’see.”

They pick up their mop again, a suspicious crimson colour, and dip it into a similarly tinted bucket. Soapy water splashes onto the ground and off they go again, scrubbing the floor with sloppy movements. They waltz past the two guards and start to work the red footprints off the cobblestones, whistling again. Satire at its finest, it sounds distinctively like the Lorulean royal anthem.

“If you don’t mind me asking,” Newt quips up, “who, um, attacked you ?”

“Now _that,_ my tall and shiny friend, is none of your business.” They lean against the mop and grin a gappy grin, biting down on their cigarette. “However, I have somethin’ in my possession that might be.”

Both guards nod in unison.

Lurelei looks them up and down again and manages to sigh in a more unflattering way yet. “Do you two work for Hilda, then ?”

Joh’s face contorts into the grimace of tense respect. “Why, of course ! We’re two of her Highness Queen Hilda of Lorule’s best men !”

“Oh good,” they muse. “I doubt two lads of your… state and mind would be capable of lying convincingly. Well… Could you deliver a message to her Highness Queen Hilda of Lorule ?”

“Guess so.”

“Okie-dokie.” Lurelei picks the cigarette out of their mouth and drops it on the floor. In the bloody pool at their feet, it sizzles. “Then tell her this : her childhood friend is in quite a bit of danger. And when I say quite a bit, I mean a _lot,_ so feel free to emphasize. If she thinks she can do something about it, tell her to come and pay me a visit. Or invite me up. Whatever. You got all of that ?”

Newt nods fervently.

“Say it back to me, then.”

“Her Highness’ childhood friend is in lots and lots and lots of grave and deadly danger and you need to talk to her if she wants to help. Say, you wouldn’t be talking about the missing knight, Ra–“

“I’m gonna stop you right there,” Lurelei cuts in, “and ask you to mind business of your own. Just give her the message. If she asks who it’s from, tell her : the ugly old shopkeeper down Anvil Street. Lurelei’s the name.”

“Wouldn’t it be better for you to come along straight away…?” Newt attempts, still attempting to hide behind his portly partner. “The words will probably be more convincing from your mouth, and uh – I can’t promise I won’t forget any of it before we get back.”

The shopkeeper shakes their head merrily. “Oh, no. Your memory’ll be fine ! The honour should be yours for finding a lead, right ? She might reward you, or somethin’.”

“Oh, but that’s not why we do the job !” Newt retorts, despite flaming cheeks. “We just want to be as good as possible.”

“And frankly, you need to come with us and tell her this story yourself,” Joh adds.

“No, I insist.”

“No, we insist !” the guards cry together, and cross their arms firmly across their armour plate.

Lurelei rubs a suspiciously bruised eye and whistles out a sigh. They give the mop a resigned look and rest it against the shop door. “Oh, very well. But what of my cleaning ?”

“Is it really the priori –“ Joh attempts, and immediately withers beneath the shopkeeper’s glare. He in turn shuffles behind Newt and out of its blazing way.

Newt’s mouth opens tentatively, then closes again. All three Loruleans stare at each other.

“Fine,” Lurelei grumbles at last. “Fine, fine, fine. Let’s go meet her Highness, then.”

They waddle off into the shop, and return ridden of the flashy apron and elbow-high gloves. Key in hand, they crouch down and slide the door closed.

“Um, excuse me,” Newt mumbles, leaning over their shoulder from a small (and safe) distance. “Are you planning on going dressed like that…?”

Lurelei looks down towards their canary yellow rubber boots and back up again. Only mild interrogation shows on their battered face. “Sure, why not ?”

“Okay,” Newt nods, deflating as he speaks. He and Joh step around the puddle and start ahead – unsurprisingly, Lurelei trudges directly through the blood and splashes it onto nearby cobblestones.

The red stains don’t make the boots any less distasteful.


	13. Chapter 13

“How many ribs…?”

“Three,” Lurelei replies, placing their teacup back on its saucer with a delicate clatter. “Well, I’ve seen worse. Wow – you look surprisingly horrified.”

Hilda’s nose scrunches up delicately, but her eyes don’t shift away from her guest’s face. It’s yellow and green with bruising in more places than not, and bears a nose so crooked her cook could uncork bottles with it. To top it all, they’re apparently hiding three broken ribs beneath their clothes. She thinks she has every right to be at least a _little_ horrified.

“Well,” she says quietly. “I’m just a little shocked. Those sound like rather serious injuries, and although you don’t sound alarmed, I truly think you should see our court physician.”

“Pshah ! They’re not worth half a rupee. Thank you for your concern, but I can take care of myself. I won’t die on your doorstep.”

“That isn’t my biggest apprehension.” She swirls her spoon around her cup, careful not to hit the sides. “You’re making a rather big accusation, don’t you think ?”

Lurelei shakes their head, sending matted silver locks to scatter across their shoulders. “I’m not accusin’ anyone, yer Highness. Please don’t think that.”

“What is it you have come to me for, in that case ?”

“I came to report a fact.”

She pauses from her swirling to look up and into their face – or what of it remained a normal colour. They look back into hers coolly.

She sets her spoon down onto the tablecloth and crosses her arms. “Look, ah –“

“Lurelei.”

“Yes, of course. Lurelei. My guards were under the impression that bringing you here was a vital mission. Newt assures me that you have information that might be valuable to me. You’ve given me some of that, I believe, but I feel I’m still missing something. Why did you come and report to me ? Assault charges are a knight’s business.”

The shopkeeper stops untangling a lick of their hair and looks up. “Ah, yeah. You see, I was willin’ to tell your boys and have _them_ tell _you_ , but they were very insistent…”

“Please get to the point.”

The playfulness on Lurelei’s face melts away, and their cocked smile vanishes. The Queen is left to gaze into the hardness of their eyes.

“It has,” they say, “something to do with Ravio.”

Hilda’s red eyes flash – with a quick wave of her hand, she dismisses the servant waiting at the door and stands herself to lock it behind him. She returns to their table briskly and barely takes the time to sit down before telling them : “Go on.”

“Very well,” Lurelei muses, a thin smile playing at their lips. “It’s quite touchin’ to see you’re taking the matter so seriously, but I’ll get straight to the point, shall I ? I have quite the number of reasons to think he might be in danger.”

“How so ?” she asks, “And how would you know ? How, if I may, do you even know of him ? We were all very careful –“

“Ah, but it was not I who went snooping : _he_ came to me. The kid spent a year in Castle Town workin’ in my shop before fleeing further away. For a while I was in contact with him even after he left. You could say I know of him quite well – no offense, but better than you do at this point. You haven’t seen him in what, seven years ?”

Mutely, Hilda nods.

“You’ll have to forgive me for answering your questions in the wrong order, but I’m tryin’ to make this as simple and short as possible. For one, I haven’t finished cleanin’ the shop, and it goes without sayin’ that time is short.” Their voice gets grainier as they go – they take a brief sip of tea before continuing. “Sorry – throat’s a little dry. I did get battered, as harsh as it sounds, and the same bastards are after the kid.”

“Who attacked you ?” The young woman leans in, pressing her palms flat against the tablecloth. “You mentioned a name familiar to me, but I doubt he himself did the dirty work.”

Lurelei snorts dryly, biting off a chunk of a fingernail. “Course not. He probably couldn’t if he tried. He has a gang at his beck ‘n call – I’d heard of ‘em beforehand. People call ‘em the Midnight Touch.”

“I’ve heard of them as well,” the queen sighs. “An assorted band of murderers, thieves and other similarly unpleasant crooks… Forgive me for being blunt, but I’m surprised you survived.”

“That’s only ‘cos I knew they’d be coming. Group of twenty. I ki– incapacitated about three or four, which both pissed them off and scared them. They didn’t stick around very much once they tore through the place.”

Hilda’s gaze softens none. It fixes on Lurelei’s grey eyes and scratches at their surface. “Please don’t be insulted, I simply must ask. Did you or did you not leak any information regarding Ravio’s whereabouts to them ?”

Lurelei’s grin twists brutally downwards, but no uproar erupts from them. “No,” they simply say. “No, I didn’t. I know where he went, but I’d have rather died than tell. The kid and I exchanged letters for a number of years, but I burnt them all before they got to the shop. He’s safe.”

There’s a pause. Then, softly, they add :

“I’ve always treated him like my own.”

A small smile warms Hilda’s face. She reaches across the table for Lurelei’s bandaged hand, but stops inches from it, acutely aware that the gesture wouldn’t be appreciated. “Knowing him, he’d have done the same for you.”

“Of course he would have,” Lurelei laughs. “Of course. He’s a bone-headed idiot. Say – I still don’t know why he’s being hunted down by Yuga’s posse, nor why he fled the castle in the first place. He never told me. I never asked. There’s something special about that kid, but I won’t ask you what it is either. Seein’ the turn things are takin’, I think that’s better for everyone, right ?”

“There would be no use in it anyway,” she tells them, smiling. “I see that you know him for who he is already. What good would there be in changing that ?”

“Wisely said.” The shopkeeper almost smiles back. “In any case, I’m in way above my head with this business. If the Midnight boys knew where to find _me,_ they’ll know where to find him. I can’t do much for the kid from here. I don’t even know where he and his silent blond twin are headed next…”

“You’re talking about Link, I assume ?” Hilda finds the description rather amusing. “If you’ve helped him on his way, Lorule owes you a great debt.”

“I don’t really care about that,” they reply with bland honesty. “But I’m interested in getting’ both of ‘em out of this mess before things get nasty. Call me soft if you must.”

“As for that,” she says, “I might be able to figure something out.”

And Hilda, who feels much more than any ordinary person, has already felt a tug. It’s a promising one, strong and precise. Most importantly, it’ll lead her knights straight to him, the boy she’d loved so in her young years.

She just hopes it won’t lead anyone else down the same path.

“Oh boy, I could actually see bits of beetroot in that one.”

Link lets himself drop back onto the deck like a puppet and lies there, staring into the sky. His chest is heaving, his throat hot and sticky. It’s five o’clock in the pm. He’s thrown up four times so far since waking up.

Ravio slides his back down the boat’s mast and sits besides him, wrapping his arms loosely around his knees. Altogether a lucky bastard, he’d barely gone green in the face the first few days of the trip – now on their last day, he takes in the swings and pitches of the boat as though they’re nothing out of the ordinary. It worsens Link’s situation, because the Hylian ends up feeling both jealous and sick at the same time.

“ _Yeah, I could taste it too…”_ he mouths, squinting at the clouds trailing above them. He tries to swallow the foul aroma, but it’s persistent and annoyingly strong.

“Was it like this on the way to Rowmore, too ?” the engineer wonders aloud. “You must have been very eager to meet me, Mr Hero.”

Link tries to roll his eyes at his teasing smile, but he doesn’t have the strength. Seized by an all-too-familiar burning sensation in his stomach, he manages to topple over the side of the boat just in time to retch into the river again. He then proceeds to cough his lungs out, startling a number of seagulls perched above the sails.

“Oh dear,” Ravio says, and hurries to his side. He rubs Link’s back comfortingly and helps him lean back : he young man is so sickly he might fall overboard at any moment. With Ravio’s help, he staggers back up, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. He looks the very picture of misery. “I’m sorry you’re having such a rough time. It’ll be over soon, though ! You’ll be all better with two feet on solid ground.”

Clutching the boat’s rails hard enough to turn his knuckles quite white, Link groans in response.

If someone had asked Erik what he thought of the situation, he’d have struggled to answer.

Thankfully, no one had asked – he had resorted to asking himself, which was far less mortifying. He’d been thinking about the answer to his own question for over a week, and nothing had come of it. Nothing had even _attempted_ to come of it : his mind went utterly blank. Lurelei had put him deep in their business again, without a single word of explanation. The old bastard be damned.

It doesn’t strictly concern him, and as a passing fisherman who transports passengers every day, he’s used to keeping his nose out of his clients’ personal situations. But this, this is just a little too weird to ignore, and every time he looks over from the cabin and sees the two young men hanging around the deck, all his questions start flowing back. He’d be grateful if someone _were_ to ask them, because then at least he could admit he didn’t understand a single thing going on.

Down by the mast, a dark-skinned and gracefully sun-kissed young man is kneeling, carrying two apples and sweetly trying to force one into the second passenger’s hands. Erik finds the sight of him particularly startling because the last time he’d seen him, he’d been a lanky kid of thirteen. Erik never expected to see him again, but there he is, sitting on his boat, six years after his first trip.

The second passenger, cautiously shaking his head and pushing the fruit away, is more familiar and less shocking to see, because Erik has transported him down Highmight River a very short while ago. When Lurelei had brought him to the harbour by the bridge, the fisherman had found the kid suspicious – now it’s striking, and a little stressful. He and apple-boy are made of the same mould, and share an incredible number of features, yet at the same time, they’re night and day. Looking at them side by side makes Erik uneasy, but they’re on his deck, and they’re getting off near Sweetstone (the madmen), so he has to make do.

He makes do by sailing like the goddamn wind.

He’s no intellectual, but he can tell when something is up : this, more than anything, stinks. The boys are polite, respectful and quiet enough, but he feels no shame in wanting them off his boat. A week and a half trip is cut down to six days in order to reach this goal as soon as possible. The sun is slowly setting over Highmight Bridge by the time they approach the harbour, and he’s more glad than ever to be home.

They reach the shore; an anchor is pushed overboard, and a plank extended over to stable grounds. Erik watches one of the young men make two trips carrying their bags, and come back to help his wobbling friend. No doubt, they’re good kids, but he doesn’t want to be around when something happens to them, or _they_ happen to something.

“Thank you, sir !” The kid who can talk waves to him from his spot on the shore. The other one attempts a slight hand-wiggle, but doesn’t get too far.

“No problem,” he shouts back, even though they are a problem. A big one.

But it’s someone else’s problem. None of his. He sails off with the marking sensation of having escaped death, and it jarringly sticks with him for the best part of a month.

Poor kids.

“ _It’s night-time already…”_

Link lays spread out in the grass, eyes open upon the darkening sky. Stars have just begun to twinkle above them – normally, he’d find their flickering merry, but today it feels faintly menacing. He’s so glad to have returned to land that he’s refused to move from his spot in the last hour, much to Ravio’s agitation.

“I know it is !” he laments. He’s settled to Link’s right, face nearly completely hidden behind his thick scarf. “And it’s getting chilly, too. We might be in trouble to find somewhere to sleep…”

“ _Can’t we just go to Castle Town and rent a room for the night ?”_ Oblivious to his concern, Link continues to gaze into the night. He feels very small under the sky’s endless dome. To him, it’s comforting.

Ravio doesn’t agree one bit. For the past hour, he’s been tinkering with this or that weapon, adjusting bolts, aim and accuracy with increasingly shaky fingers. His work has since been discarded, and he’s hidden under all that stripy wool. “Absolutely not !” he exclaims, a little muffled by the scarf. “I didn’t flee for fun, you know. I’ll be easily recognized – and I definitely can’t show my face before we have insurance. So we can’t go there until we get the sword… even though I’d like to, really.”

His fingers fiddle with something – a piece of paper ? – that Link can’t quite make out in the darkness.

“We need to go to, um… will you pass me the map ?”

Link rolls over onto his stomach and drags the bag over. Paper travels from hand to hand. Ravio unfolds it and spreads it out on his knees, while Link strikes a match. The Lorulean’s index finger trails down the map’s depiction of Highmight River, and stops just short of the ominous twisting trees that mark Sweetstone Forest’s location.

“There !” He taps the spot. “If my memory’s still half-decent, there’s a tiny little village barely an hour away from the forest. That’s where we’ll get some sleep.”

Link snuffs the match out on the sole of his boot and helps his companion up. “ _Should we leave now ?”_

“Yep. The faster we get somewhere warm, the better, right ?”

They heave their respective bags onto their backs and start back onto the path. Every few yards, a torch burns bright and keeps the road visible – clouds have swallowed up even the moonlight. They’re tired and they’re cold, and the journey goes mostly silently. As a result, every single noise in close proximity to them makes them jump and swivel around. Even the smallest leaf causes a small scandal, and after a while, Link can’t take the stress. He uncurls his fingers from around his bag’s strap and turns to his friend.

“ _Hey.”_

“Hey,” Ravio smiles, giving him a quick glance. The corners of his lips twitch once, twice, and when he thinks Link isn’t looking, droop back down. White glints in the darkness, and his teeth sink into his bottom lip.

His fidgeting reminds Link of a detail Hilda had dropped into their discussion – he’d gone and allowed himself to forget it, but it’s strikingly clear now. “ _You don’t like big open spaces, do you ?”_

The young man doesn’t look surprised. “Who’d you get that from ?”

“ _Hilda,”_ Link signs, a little taken aback. “ _She mentioned it, but I just noticed. You look anxious.”_

“You know, it sounds like plenty of people have told you all about me…” He sighs softly, kicking a stone out of the path. “I kind of wish they hadn’t. I’d rather you form your own idea of me, instead of relying on other people’s.”

“ _I’m not !”_ he answers, a little too defensively. He lowers his hands and tries again : “ _I’m not. I asked around to know what to expect. Now, I’m getting to know you myself.”_

They pace forward in silence for a few yards. Link scratches the back of his neck, giving his companion a furtive glance. On his third attempt, his eyes meet Ravio’s, who sprouts an amused grin.

“Sorry,” he says. “I’m cranky. You’re right ! I hate big plains and endless fields and…” (a shiver) “…most places without a roof.”

“ _Why ?”_ Link, who is lucky enough to have grown up in the wild, can’t imagine a life without entire days and nights spent under the clouds.

Ravio shrugs a little, causing his bag to jiggle up and down on his back. “I’m not sure, actually ! I always have. I guess it’s because the world seems so big and towering, like it’s trying to swallow me. And believe me, I don’t wanna be swallowed !” He pauses to look at Link. “Surely even Mr Hero has some irrational fears… right ?”

It’s clear from his tone alone that he’s doubtful.

“ _Well…”_ Link finds himself scratching at his chin for longer than expected, raking his mind for anything he could associate with fear. He’s not entirely shocked to find little. “ _I don’t know, actually. I never thought about it.”_ He lifts his head, hoping the conversation might veer elsewhere, but Ravio’s gaze is locked on him and expectant. He deflates, dragging his feet across the gravel. “ _Don’t look at me like that ! I don’t… Hey, I guess I have a fear after all !”_

He looks immensely excited at this prospect, and grins at the merchant with newfound pride. Ravio indulges him and grins back curiously. “So what is it ? What’s bad enough to make fear creep slowly, steadily into the Hero’s mind ?”

“ _Losing my loved ones,”_ he says, and suddenly feels quite silly. His cheeks flush hotly. “ _I mean, them getting hurt. I don’t fear as much for myself as I do for others, um, I guess.”_ A nervous laugh punctuates his signing. “ _It sounds a bit childish now I’ve said it…”_

His eyes flicker up to peek at Ravio, expecting some kind of good-humoured teasing, but the young man stares on down the path thoughtfully. Buildings are beginning to appear, in the flickering lights of windowsill candles. “It’s not childish,” he smiles, lifting his head a little. “It’s rather sweet, don’t you think ? Thank you for confiding in me !”

“ _I don’t mind…”_ Link trails off, and both of them stop in their tracks, pushing up gravel against the soles of their boots. They squint ahead into the darkness. “ _Hey, we’ve arrived !”_

“Doesn’t seem like a very welcoming place.”

Sadly, Ravio is absolutely correct. The small village before them reeks of hostility in every shape and form. Torches are few, and barely warm the air. Door are shut tight behind bulky and intimidating locks and clasps – those which are left ajar lead only into chilly darkness. Wooden houses sit crooked, looming above them. It’s late, but certainly not late enough for the streets to be so empty and so quiet; worse yet, the few inhabitants they cross veer away from them purposefully, haggardly avoiding their paths. All of them wear a dark, glowering expression and heavy wrinkles below their eyes. No one responds to their smiles. They continue down the path tensely, unconsciously drifting closer together.

At Link’s elbow, Ravio shivers audibly. “Not as nice a little town as we expected, huh ?”

“ _I have to agree.”_ They scan each sides of the street for any signs or candle lights, advancing slowly though the night. “ _Are we going to find anywhere to sleep ?”_

Ravio pauses mid-shrug and cranes his neck forward – he goes a few paces ahead of Link, jogs up to a small building three doors up, and turns back grinning. “Leave it to me ! This here is ‘Riverbed Inn’, and it’s open !”

It is, but the door creeks worryingly when they push it open, and the main hall is as empty at the town paths. The few poor souls still drinking at the bar turn to look them up and down before returning to their whiskey. No word of greeting is pronounced.

Ravio is hovering in the doorway, clinging to its hinges, so Link takes the front and steps forward. The floorboards shriek with equal menace, and each step he takes attracts a little more attention. Drooping faces flicker red in weak candlelight, dark and wet eyes trailing him as he goes. The room is dusty, musty and suffocating, cobwebs clinging to the ceiling desperately for life, and offers as sole decoration a broken piano forsaken in its darker corners. Its splinters stretch out as twisting shadows on the walls.

He lays a hand flat against the bar, and regrets it immediately – a thick layer of dust clings to his gloves and skin, almost thicker than the sheep wool he is used to weaving. The bartender, an elderly man with eyes so small they disappeared completely under his dark wrinkles, stares at him sightlessly.

“ _Do you have a free room for two ?”_ he tries, without much conviction.

To his surprise, the man seems to understand his signing despite his lack of vision. He shakes his head with deliberate slowness.

“ _A room for one, then._ ” They’d make do with anything, as long as it meant spending the night under a solid roof.

“That, I can offer,” the bartender states in a hoarse, lethargic voice that hangs heavily in the air. Or maybe it’s just all that dust. “If you have the money.”

“ _I do_ ,” Link assures him, placing a hand on his bag. “ _How much ?”_

The man extends a hooked finger and taps a wooden board above his head. Link tries to ignore the maggots festering on one end and makes out the prices. Twenty rupees for one night is reasonable (if not suspiciously cheap), making it forty for the two of them. There’s an extra charge for breakfast, but he thinks they’ll be passing that.

He’s unfastening the buckles on the front of his bag when the old man speaks again, managing to rumble more than the first time. “Where are you headed ?”

If there’s something faintly menacing about his tone, Link chooses to ignore it. And with that choice, he makes a critical mistake.

“ _Sweetstone Forest,_ ” he signs.

The woman sitting beside him start shrieking.

In all honesty, he hadn’t noticed she was there at all. She had been sitting bent over, back curved forward with scoliosis or a heavy heart, her long hair draping over her shoulders and masking most of her face. Now she sits as straight as a spike, eyes so wide they might burst, veins popping wildly. Her mouth is open wide, revealing irregular rows of rotting teeth, and she screams, and screams, and screams.

“CURSE YOU !” she screeches, her hands reaching out to grab Link’s face. He’s too shocked to step away in time, and her nails dig into his skin, raking downwards and drawing blood. “CURSE YOU FOR CURSING US ALL !”

He tries to pull back, struggling in her grasp, but in her terror she is unbelievably strong. He feels the skin of his cheeks rip under her broken nails and bites back a cry of pain.

“Bad omen,” she howls, tears now coursing down her cheeks. “Bad omen ! Bad omens on our doorstep ! Bad omens on our graves !”

Her hair whips into his face, spittle flying from her open mouth in his direction. He dares look around the room, silently begging for some kind of intervention, but the other drinkers are still and grave, looking at him darkly. He kicks and thrashes out at her with a cry, willing himself to overcome her, and ends up falling out of her grasp and onto the ground.

Ravio is standing behind her, arms locking her elbows in place and momentarily restraining her. She continues to wail, trying to reach for him, but he holds on tight and digs the soles of his boots into the floorboards.

“I think we’d better go,” he says, managing an absurd smile despite the situation.

Panting in his spot on the floor, Link stares at the bartender hatefully, only to find his expression mirrored. The old man points to the door and, upon reflection, coughs up and spits at him. He only misses his target by half an inch. The people sitting around them follow suit and spare them some phlegm. Link is thankful that they’re too drunk or too weak to have proper aim.

“Leave, strangers,” the old man tells them. “Get out. Headed to a place like that, you’ll leave destruction and calamity in your wake.”

“Bad omens…” the woman whispers, now limp in Ravio’s grip.

A man rises from the shadows and places a hand visibly onto the hilt of his sword. “Be gone !”

“We don’t wish to pay the price for your foolishness,” someone mutters.

Ravio nods towards the door. “That’s a pretty clear message, right ?”

“ _I think I get it, yeah._ ”

Link picks himself up off the floor and brushes dirt and spiders off his tunic. Then, he adjusts the strap of his bag, and sets his cloak straight. Once all this is done, he looks back up at the bartender and grins so wide his cheeks ache, so grim his eyes narrow. Blood drips down his chin.

He takes a step forward.

“Link, don’t.”

Ravio shakes his head firmly at him, and gestures towards the door again. The woman shows no more signs of aggressivity, so he lets her go – she crumples to the ground and curls around herself, whimpering weakly.

“ _What ?”_ he signs, perhaps a little too fast, with perhaps a little too much harshness. His fists are curled tight, quivering at his sides.

“Don’t ‘what’ me, idiot.” He steps around the woman’s trembling form and puts a hand on Link’s arm. “I can tell you’re going to do something stupid, so like any good friend would, I’m stopping you. We’re leaving. Come on !”

Link, tense beneath his touch, doesn’t move a muscle.

Ravio sighs a long sigh. “Oh dear. Mr Hero, you have to learn to pick your battles ! Look, I’ll give you a quick lesson. This one ? You shouldn’t pick it. Yep. Trust me, it’s solid advice.”

But Link is still, and shows no signs of even listening to him. His eyes remain narrowed, staring holes into the bartender’s ravaged face. From the back of the room, a few customers are scraping back their chairs and shuffling forward. It isn’t the most promising of situations.

“Liii~nk,” Ravio sings, dragging out the vowel to hide his rising anxiety, “Those guys are, uh, about three times our size, and they’re definitely coming this way with pretty clear intentions.” Arousing no reaction, he begins to tap Link’s shoulder frantically, throwing quick looks behind his shoulder to check on their current looming threat. “Okay – I’m serious ! We’ve got to go now !”

He wraps both his arms around Link’s and starts tugging with enough force to make the Hylian stumble. The motion makes him break out of it – his eyes open wide again, and his ears flicker upwards, catching the patter of approaching footsteps. His fingers uncurl, and he steps back towards the door.

“ _Oh. We have to go !”_

“Yeah, no shit,” Ravio grinds, but he lets his companion grab him by the scarf and sprint out of the bar and into the night, knocking over a few splintered chairs along the way. Outside, he’s unceremoniously dropped, and Link pulls the Master Sword out of its sheath as he faces the door, but pursuit has halted. Wood is slammed in their faces, and they look at each other in the darkness.

Link sits down beside him, and they find themselves laughing – tension slips out through the sound and vanishes into the night. Their heartbeats start to calm. The Master Sword is slipped back into its sheath. Eventually, they help each other up and turn back towards the street.

“ _Well, we’re in trouble now.”_

“Oh, yeah.” Ravio scratches his chin thoughtfully. “Wanna find a cozy patch of grass to sleep in, then ?”

“ _Guess we don’t have much of a choice, now.”_

“Mhmh… Quite the temper you’ve got, huh, Mr Hero ? I see how you pulled off fighting half a pack of armed knights with just your fists.”

“ _Ugh…”_ Link runs a hand down his face, rubbing his eyes. His fingers shine red when he pulls them away. “ _Yeah. I just have issues with injustice, and they spat at us.”_

“To be fair, they spat at you,” Ravio counters. “I was relatively spit-free.”

“ _In any case, I was angry. And my gut kept clenching… Eh, it doesn’t matter now.”_ He steps onto the gravel path and stretches his arms high above his head. “ _Thanks for holding me back._ ”

Ravio joins him, hiking his scarf a little higher up his face. “Oh, that’s nothin’. I wasn’t particularly hot on watchin’ them cave your head in, which they would definitely have done without an afterthought.”

“ _You’re probably right.”_

“Probably ?!”

“ _There’s still a tiny chance I could have knocked them all down.”_

“The fact you actually believe that is scary.”

“ _Maybe so,”_ Link smiles, in a strangely good mood. “ _I kind of wonder what all that was about, though…”_

“What, the spitting ?”

“ _Just the general experience. That lady sounded like she’d seen death !”_

“Yeah…” Ravio sighs. “You probably haven’t had much of chance to notice, but everyone in Lorule is hellishly superstitious. There’s plenty of ancient lore and weird sayings that people cling to. When things were bad in the past, it’s all anyone had, and even if Lorule’s peaceful nowadays, it was kind of passed down.”

“ _We have some in Hyrule, too, but we don’t throw people out onto the streets at night because of them.”_

“Right. Normally, we don’t do that type of thing either – except for fanatics, but every kingdom has its fanatics, yeah ? It’s just worse for these people. They’re barely half an hour away from Sweetstone. They’ve probably seen some pretty horrible stuff.”

“ _I expect so. Still, we have to sleep on the streets, now.”_

“Well, actually…” Ravio peeks at him from behind his scarf, only his eyes visible. They flash a mischievous green. “There’s always an alternative.”

Link groans silently and shuffles his feet. “ _I’m not gonna like this, am I ?”_

“Nope. You’re not. You’ll either love it or hate it. I’m not sure which one yet.”

“ _Now you’ve gone and tempted me !”_

“Okay then…” The Lorulean hooks his thumbs under his bag’s leather straps. “You’ve done your reckless and dumb behaviour scene, right ?”

“ _Personally, I wouldn’t call it that.”_

“Call it what you want ! Your bit’s over with. Now allow me to expose mine !”

He leaves a temporary blank, a strategic pause. To him, it’s a very meaningful pause. To Link, it’s another excuse to punch him in the arm. He restrains himself, and settles on staring at him expectantly.

“…Shall I ?” Ravio asks, clearly teasing. Link can’t tell with all the wool in the way, but he’s about ninety percent certain he’s sticking his tongue out.

“ _YES.”_

“Very well.” He gives a very stagely bow. “I think we should go into the forest now.”

Link allows himself ten seconds to process this claim. He finds himself unable to, so he adds another twenty seconds. When those fail to suffice, he goes for a full minute and stands there, gaze blankly set on the ground. The gears in his head continue to turn laboriously. When at last they fall still, he looks back up and cannot offer a reaction more profound than a raised eyebrow.

Ravio catches this subtle change and cackles merrily.

“ _You want to go into the forest…now ?”_

“That’s right – that’s what I said, Mr Hero. Happy to see your hearing is still top-notch.”

“ _My ears are fine, but my logic is lagging a bit,”_ he admits. “ _You’re aware that it’s the middle of the night, right ?”_

Ravio looks up at the sky, and after a moment of contemplation, nods joyfully. “Ayup !”

“ _And you want to go into the forest.”_

“Yes siree.”

“ _The terrifying, blood-curdling forest full of curses, maledictions, three-headed centaurs and poisonous snakes the size of Lorule Castle ? That forest ?”_

“I see you’re following my train of thought.”

“ _The one right ahead of us, which’ll be hell to navigate through without sunlight on our side ? The one that, lemme see… ‘Wants. Us. Dead.’ ?”_

“That very one.”

Link nods. “ _Let’s do it.”_

“Okay !” Ravio cheers, bouncing on the tip of his toes. “Let’s !”

“ _Let’s !”_ Link repeats, mostly to let it sink in. All the thinking he’d done before hand prevents him further reflection, and he starts steadily down the path. Ravio follows closely by his side, gripping the boomerang clipped to his belt a little too tightly. Link leans in and bumps their shoulders together. He peeks just in time to catch the fear melt off the Lorulean’s face, pleasantly flushed.

“You know what, Mr Hero ?” he says, facing the first crooked trees up ahead. “I think we might just survive this !”

“ _That’s comforting !”_

And it is.


	14. Chapter 14

The forest _is_ the apotheosis of all forests.

There is no transitory passage, no thinning of trees near the edges. It is compact, so very dense that all concept of time slips away within its heart. They have no time to process their surroundings, nor think ahead, for they are swallowed in an instant and lose sight of their tracks. It is dark. It is coldly silent, disdainful, faintly threatening. The sky above them disappears completely.

Ravio’s hand slips into Link’s and squeezes.

The grass is crisp and dry under their heels. It crackles like a dying fire, and the sound fills their surroundings, reverberating like a white wave. It bounces off tree trunks, echoes ahead of their path, misleads them cunningly. With each step they take it weighs on them a little more. This time, neither of them have the strength to fill the silence, and onward they walk, side by side.

It’s not what they’d expected – neither for one, nor the other. Crushing pressure prevents them from exchanging, and they ruminate quietly to themselves. Link thinks about the dreadful portrait Ravio had sketched of the area, bustling with monsters all more horrifying than the next, with chilling teeth, fangs and endless hunger that would lead them to their graves. Ravio thinks about all the years of his childhood, during which he was taught not to go near the forest, to stay away from the forest, stay away from the forest because it houses your worst nightmares and will rip you inside out, leaving you bleeding in its devil grass. The forest takes and it takes and it takes.

Tonight, it drinks their fear.

They trudge on with trembling uncertainty : where are they going ? What path are they to follow ? The trees are too tall to be of use, their branches too dark and twisted to show even an inch of the night sky. They trudge on inside a timeless bubble, and they don’t know where they’re headed. Link’s grip tightens around Ravio’s hand.

“I don’t like this,” Ravio whispers at last. His head keeps whipping to the left and back to the right, mapping out their surroundings. It’s a useless attempt. North, east, south and west all look the same in this horrid place. “It’s too…”

“ _Empty,”_ Link finishes.

“Should we light a torch ?”

His voice is still hushed, quieter than Link has ever heard it. Their footsteps are equally muffled, for fear clouds their bravery. In this moment, so fickle, they wish to be small, so very small that the forest might trail its gaze over them and miss their presence completely. Disturbing it would be suicide. Nonetheless, they move to light a torch.

They huddle together and reach into their bags. Link holds out the wood they’ve packs, and Ravio strikes a match; fire begins to crackle, and the torch bursts into bright life.

A mistake.

They raise it and discover the forest for the first time. Link’s first thought is to take a frantic step back, almost tripping over his own feet. Ravio’s first thought is to try and count them, but such a thing is impossible – thousands of small creatures surround them, hanging from twisting branches, scuttling around their feet. For a split second, they both stare ahead, lungs frozen with shock, daring not a breath. Then, when they think they’re ready, they scream.

Lorulean forests are so full of life that categorizing their distinctive wildlife would take many years. Such a thing was attempted, several cycles later, and the resulting knowledge, although incomplete, filled seventeen tomes of the famous Lorulae Encyclopaedia. No less than thirty-nine thousand species were identified and named, without counting its bustling insect life. Many years of inter-breeding and evolution in the pitch dark have led monsters of old to multiply and morph into something new and unpleasant. Thirty-nine thousand species, for an original smashing twelve.

Thus, our heroes meet with the hybrids.

All of the creatures differ slightly, or so Link makes out in the flickering light. Some are furrier, while others have more legs. An alarming amount of them sport more than four eyes that glisten menacingly in their direction. And gods, do they have a lot of ugly-looking teeth.

The only upside to their accidental (and now wholesomely unwanted) discovery is that the creatures are small. The biggest of them is the size of a melon – most look like bloated, rotting apples with too many joints. This makes them slightly less intimidating than they might have been if they’d, let’s see, been as tall as them.

Thus, mind racing, Link makes do. He follows their unhealthy movements, and when he’s steady, lurches forward. His foot flies upwards in a pretty curve, and the creatures splatter goo onto the nearby trees. Happy with the result, he does it again, and another pack dissolves or rolls away into the darkness. His boots drip with slime.

Meanwhile, Ravio watches, stuck awkwardly between frantic confusion and disgust. “What the hell are you doing…?”

“ _Kicking them !”_ he replies needlessly, because the motion speaks for itself. Another set of ten creatures squeaks out of existence. “ _Help me !”_

“Help you…?” Ravio repeats, for once a little bewildered at the whole situation. His head snaps up, and his eyes strain to see the limit of the pack, but every time he moves the torch a little further out, more creatures are revealed. “I don’t want to discourage you, Mr Hero, but we’ll be here a whole year if you wanna kick all of them.”

“ _The fact that you’re still arguing while we’re under attack is unbelievable !”_ Link roars, sending another few monsters to meet their maker. His irritation is silent, but Ravio more or less gets the message.

He takes an experimental step forward and tries his hardest not to cringe back when he feels them scuttling around his ankles, snapping their teeth and blinking their big, bulging eyes. He stamps down onto the ground and sends them all running to the outer circles of their group, leaving a big empty space in the middle.

“Interesting.”

Link throws a glance over his shoulder. “ _I probably don’t want to know, but what’s interesting ?”_

“They’re sensitive,” Ravio mutters, watching more creatures clear the way under Link’s ruthless kicks. “And they tend to run to the side lines to avoid danger.”

“ _Good for them,”_ Link snarks gruffly, and turns back.

But behind him, Ravio is grinning, and the familiar spark in his eye has returned. He reaches up to unbuckle the straps on the front of Link’s bag and fishes out something.

Feeling a change in the weight on his shoulders, Link pivots again. “ _What the hell are YOU doing ?”_

“Calm down, Mr Hero. I have a pretty good idea !”

And before he can ask what the brilliant idea might be, a column of fire whisks by him and rips through the forest, grass and monsters alike, in a perfectly straight trajectory. A burnt path appears before them, void of tripping roots, empty of scuttling creatures. They’ve all retreated into the darkness at the edges of the fire’s route.

“Follow the fire !” Ravio shouts, and sets off sprinting after it.

With slight admiration, Link follows the fire. No teeth bite down on the leather of his boots, and nothing crawls up his leg : the creatures keep a safe distance away from the blazing grass, jaws snapping rhythmically. They make no attempt to follow them, and soon they reach the edge of the pack. Link gives it one last kick and runs ahead to join his companion.

Both of them skid to a stop and double over, panting. Ravio leans against a tree, breathing hard into the cold forest air. Around them, silence has returned, but the adrenaline thumping in their blood and making their ears pop occupies it well enough.

“Well, that was hell,” he says conversationally, pressing a hand to his chest. He’s still trying to catch his breath.

“ _Probably not the last of it, too…”_

“Right.”

They look at each other, still struggling to regain their balance, faces flushed with narrowly escaped danger, and nod in unison.

“So we press onward.”

“ _Gotta do what you gotta do,”_ Link smiles. “ _I don’t think turning back would be very fun, either.”_

“I wonder what’ll come next.”

What comes next is a rustle.

It’s small, it’s quiet, and it’s undeniably close. They swerve around in opposite directions, ears flickering with concentration. The rustle repeats itself, once, twice, then thrice. They step closer to each other, back to back in the torch’s feeble light, and grip their respective weapons.

The rustle becomes a booming crash.

Both of them jump back, fingers closed tight over the hilt of their only defence – Link pulls the Master Sword out, and Ravio attempts to scramble into a ready position, but the booming is quick, heavy and approaching. What might have sounded like an explosion at first becomes increasingly loud, and increasingly clear. Their eyes meet, and both of them have the same realisation : the crashes are footsteps, coming fast their way.

Gradually, they slow down; the closer they get to the edge of the light, the most time spawns between each noise. Jaw tensely shut tight enough to cause a cramp, Ravio leans forward and extends the torch outwards. It takes all his strength not to jerk back.

“Huh,” is all he manages to say.

“ _Huh,”_ Link agrees, standing by his side.

His heart thumps harshly in his chest. It’s still unsure of what to do. He stands very still and lets his eyes trail up, higher up, high enough for his neck to start aching. In a normal setting, he would probably scream, but the monster isn’t moving nor growling nor attempting the smallest attack, so he’s decided not to. Instead, he just looks.

The figure standing before them is shorter than the trees only by little. It’s almost human, in a way that disturbs both of them greatly, but a single, large eye takes up most of the space on its circular face. Its skin as scaly and dark, stretched across strong biceps and thick forearms. It’s wearing clothes, or something primitively close. Its sole eyelid droops over a milky iris. It shows no reaction of having noticed them at all.

Numb with anticipation, Link extends his free arm and shakes it above his head. Whether his movements are quick or slow, the monster shows no sign of recognition; it keeps staring onwards, far above their heads. They stand in its towering shadow, holding their breath.

“ _It’s blind,”_ Link signs.

“ _It tracked us thanks to sounds,”_ Ravio signs back. He gestures up, towards the monster’s head. It lacks ears, in their place large holes on each side of its head. “ _We’d better stay still.”_

They’d better stay _very_ still, Link agrees, because at this distance it would take the monster only one step to reach them. It doesn’t have any other frightening attributes – no claws, no sharp teeth, no mouth at all in fact – but its fists are deadly enough. In the crunchy dead grass, a single slip would be their death.

He looks over to Ravio, whose shoulders are shaking in his struggle to stay perfectly still. The Lorulean’s eyes are wide open, teeth biting into his lip again. He keeps craning his neck to look over his shoulder – when he realises Link’s watching, he leans in a little closer to him and signs : “ _I think there’s something else coming.”_

“ _Something else ?”_ Link closes his eyes and tries to catch any new sounds, but other than the creature’s wheezy breathing and the night wind, he can’t hear a thing. “ _Is it silent…?”_

_“I don’t know. I can’t see or hear it, but I know it’s coming. Trust my, um…”_

_“Triforce senses ?”_

_“Right. Triforce senses.”_

They share a brief smile – and when Link turns around, he’s faced with eight eyes.

At first, he’s irrationally scared that they might all belong to one hideously elongated creature that would creep up and circle them in its endless length. However, the shining eyes drift apart from each other and approach. The pitter-patter of footsteps alerts the giant, who turns his massive head towards the noise. The eyes come nearer, and turn out to come in pairs. Absurdly, this reassures Link.

The creatures look like the forest octoroks he and every other Hylian is so accustomed to, but sport an abnormal number of mouths, all filled with needle-like teeth. One of them spits out a series of rocks in their direction, which land near Link’s feet. He’s glad they missed : they have the shape and size of a bullet, but look dangerously pointy. He suspects getting hit by one might feel like a stab with an arrowhead, although he isn’t eager to test the theory.

He looks at Ravio. Ravio looks at him. Together they look at the one-eyed monster, and at the herd of octoroks. Seeing no use in hiding anymore, they both sigh audibly and raise their weapons.

“Shall we run for it ?”

“ _It would be my pleasure.”_

With one last shared glance, they throw themselves forward and run for their lives.

Everything seems to happen at once : the giant’s hand comes flying down onto their previous spot, missing them by a whisker. It crushes the grass and leaves a large palm print on the forest’s dry ground. Realising, although with a brainless delay, its mistake, it rises again and turns towards the closest source of noise. An octoroks pays the price for its attacks, and it squashed into a red, bleeding pulp. The other creatures squeak at each other and scuttle after their prey, fleeing from the giant’s deadly punches.

Link dares to look over his shoulder as he goes, and finds the ugly little monsters right on their tail. They’re small, and have a great many more legs than they do – they have the clear advantage in this race. His feet draw a clear ark amongst the leaves; he turns to face them, knees bent forward, and slashes through the first of their group. He leaves them no time to spit, letting his blade carve holes into their skulls. It’s a horrible feeling, the vibration of bones breaking that travels through the metal and up into the hilt, but he’s fighting for his life, and will have the time to vomit later.

To his right, an explosion of red goo sends bits of brain and flesh flying in his direction. Ravio’s aim is true and hits home – the bombs go off in the heart of the group and split it apart. He reaches for another with one hand, and sends the boomerang flying with the other. It rips through the eyes of a creature and sends it screaming to the ground.

They’re doing well, but numbers are not in their favour : no matter how many they tear down, others appear to take their place. When the wave becomes too thick to be dealt with, they bolt ahead again, breathing harshly. The fact that they’re not dead, nor injured, is a miracle that keeps them going.

Link turns around again to repeat the process, but there’s a loud crash ahead of him. Ravio is kneeling in the dirt, clutching a trembling ankle in both his hands. A root is wound tightly around it. The young man gives him a smile wide with panic and shakes his head.

“Run ahead !” he shouts, and his voice is so loud in Link’s ears that he’s compelled to obey.

The scuttle of a hundred little legs behind him becomes deafening, but he doesn’t turn around. Not even a shriek of pain and a string of panted curses erupting from his companion can make him stop. He runs ahead, as fast as he can, because surely Ravio has a plan, right ? He hasn’t just sent him ahead to save his ass, right ?

Right…?

There’s a brutal explosion a few yards behind him that’s violent enough to send red droplets raining above his head, dripping onto his hair. There’s pieces of octorok dribbling down his face. The scuttling has come to a sudden stop, and the sound of red rain pattering the forest dirt with goo fills newfound silence. Link, struggling to breathe, finally comes to a halt. He needs to turn around. He’s so fucking scared of what he’ll find, but he needs to turn around and –

“Looking mighty grim there, Mr Hero !”

“ _Goddamn it,”_ he says in a breath, and throws himself at Ravio.

It’s important to note he _does_ try to catch Link, but the force of his tackle is too much to handle for an injured, limping young man of his calibre and he collapses onto the ground, taking Link with him. The Hylian’s arms are wrapped tight around him, and he’s gripping his tunic with surprising force, considering his hands are shaking. Ravio lets his arms drop on top of Link’s back and rubs it warmly.

Link manages to get himself under enough control to kneel above Ravio and take in his state. Above his ever-present smile, his nose sits crooked as if twisted at the middle. A sharp rock is embedded in it and drawing blood that’s dripping down his face and onto his scarf. The bottom of his nose no longer aligns with the top, and Link wonders just how deep the cut is. Setting aside several scorch marks, Ravio is otherwise unwounded.

“ _Does it hurt ?”_ he mouths, unconsciously running a finger down his scarred face.

“Like a bitch,” the Lorulean replies, grinning wide. “But that’s better than being dead right ?”

“ _Mhm,”_ Link silently agrees.

“Hey, it’s fine ! Let’s slap some bandages on it – that way we’ll match !”

Link manages a rumbling laugh and picks himself up off the ground. He lends Ravio a helping hand and lifts him back onto his feet. The young man limps to his side and leans on him.

“Hey,” he says, “I think I know where we’re headed next.”

It’s becoming difficult for Link to believe in coincidences – what are, after all, the chances ? They’ve been running blindly away from attack after attack, heading in whichever direction seems safest. What are, after all, the chances of this clumsy method leading them to the heart of the forest ? What are, after all, the chances of them accidentally finding their way ?

Nonetheless, white light shines before them. It forms a bright path that leads through the winding trees and far ahead. There is no doubt in where it is to take them.

“ _I think you should go alone.”_

“Huh ?” Ravio pivots on his heels, away from the light. “Why ?”

“ _I don’t know,_ ” Link signs. “ _I just…feel it’s the right thing to do. Besides, someone needs to stand guard.”_

“On your own ? That’s insane ! You saw what kind of freaky things live around here.”

“ _I’ll just watch out for danger. If things get too risky, I’ll join you. I just don’t think I should come along ! I can’t explain it, but you need to go on your own.”_

Ravio stares at him for a moment, in a way so unreadable that Link almost takes his words back, but he ends up nodding curtly. “Alright.”

“ _Hey, I –“_

“No !” he laughs, catching the worried look on Link’s face. “I’m not angry, Mr Hero. I think you’re right. Whatever’s at the end of that path is meant for me, right ? Then I have to go all by myself and face it.”

“ _Well…”_ Link watches him take a few steps in the light’s direction, and grabs his arm. “ _Good luck.”_

“Thank you,” Ravio says, and he means it. He gives Link one last smile and starts limping on his way. “I’ll see you in what, five minutes ?”

“ _Limping like that, it’ll be closer to an hour,”_ Link signs after him, but he’s already turned his back on him and begun hobbling down the path of light. Link keeps watching until he disappears completely amongst the trees. Then, he turns away and stabs the Master Sword into the ground.

Leaning on its hilt, he waits.

The light holds his hand and leads him onwards.

It’s kind, and it’s warm on his face. Although the forest is pitch black, he feels sun-kissed, blessed and protected. The light cocoons him and keeps him on the path of safety. It paves the stones he walks on to reach his goal.

The light takes him down a small valley that’s rustling with critter and familiar animals that curiously trail him. Squirrels, birds and foxes follow him through the opening. His boots sink into fresh grass that shines with dew. Feeling a little like he’s dreaming, he walks over to the stone pedestal sitting at the heart of the flower field.

This, little one, is the Master Sword – he’d been told as a tiny, curly-haired child sitting on his governess’ lap. She would point to the picture book set open on the bed and describe the blade to him. Its pretty golden hilt – she said – will fit perfectly in your hand. When it sees within you the power of a true hero, it will glow a gentle blue. It will be your sword, little one, and yours only. It is your birth right.

And there it sits, waiting for him, encased in stone. Hilt up, it stares at the sky sightlessly.

Ravio is so absorbed that he almost misses the dark figure standing beside it. It’s completely black, featureless, with neither face nor defined body. It is, he thinks, a shadow – and it, too, is waiting for him.

“Hello,” the shadow says pleasantly, although it has no mouth. Its voice rings so familiar that Ravio reaches out to touch his own throat.

“Don’t look so scared,” the shadow teases. “I won’t eat you up !”

“Who are you…?” he manages, and finds himself croaking.

The shadow kicks an invisible pebble dejectedly. “Me ? I’m the guardian of the sword, of course ! Just like everyone before me and everyone after me, starting with you.”

His speech might be cryptic, but Ravio is starting to get an idea of who he’s talking to. He takes a tentative step forward. “Are you the previous hero, by any chance ?”

“Mayhap,” the shadow chirps, crossing its arms behind its back. “Mayhap not. Do you really have to ask questions you already know the answer to ? What, are you going to ask me what my name is, next ?”

“Ravio…” he pronounces softly. “You’re Ravio as well.”

“Ye-es ! Correct. Aren’t you sharp !”

Clearly, they’re having a rather meaningful conversation, but the young man can’t help but feel a little insulted. “S’cuse me if this is offensive, or anything, but you sound kind of bitter.”

The shadow sighs and shakes its dark head. “Yeah, I suppose that’s true. For my defence, I’ve been waiting here _ages !_ How come the others get eternal peace and I have to hang around waiting for you ? You’re seven years late !”

“Ah…” Ravio scratches his head, managing a grin. “Well, there were some complications.”

“Complications !” the shadow repeats, bewildered. “Seven years’ worth ?”

It doesn’t have the faintest trace of eyes, but Ravio feels it stare holes into his face.

“Well, it doesn’t matter !” It steps in front of the pedestal and gives a little bow. “Let’s just get on with it. Show me your Triforce and we’ll be sorted !”

There’s a pause.

Ravio can feel himself sweat. “Actually…”

“Hm ?”

“Those complications I mentioned…”

“What about ‘em ?”

He swallows roughly and reaches towards his knee. “They’re kind of directly linked to the whole Triforce thing.”

The shadow is glaring by now. “Whatever ! Just show me the business !”

Rolling his eyes, Ravio pulls down his sock and brings the Triforce of Wisdom into sight. The shadow bends down to look at it, then looks at him, then looks back at it again.

“That’s irregular,” it says.

“Right. Complications. But…”

Light seems to be draining out of the valley.

“Highly irregular…” the shadow whispers.

The animals vanish, gone to hide behind tree trunks and under large leaves from a storm to come. The flowers shrivel where they stand and let their colours drain onto the ground, where grass is slowly but certainly decaying. Trees that had appeared comfortingly normal now twist their branches and reach out for him.

Standing before him, the shadow glows a crimson red.

“Now, we can’t have that.”

The branches converge on him and wrap around his arms and legs, making his aching ankle scream out in pain. The grass grows taller and ties itself into knots on top of his feet. He tries to rip away, stretching his muscles far beyond their limit, but the branches only tighten their hold. His fingers are already going numb. His weapons sit uselessly at his belt.

“Weakling,” the shadow croons, strolling over to him. It reaches blurred fingers out to touch his face. He cringes back – they’re as cold as ice. The sensation creeps through his face. “Who stole it from you ? Who took our Triforce away ?”

Yuga, he tries to say, and fate as well, they’ve been collaborating – but the shadow grabs him by the jaw and squeezes so tight not a single word can come out. It grins, showing off pearly white shark teeth. In the most sadistic of manners, it places its freezing index of his lips to shush him.

“Now, now. Don’t make up excuses. You failed to protect it, right ?”

No ! he shakes his head frantically from left to right, but branches extend to wrap around his neck. He’s frozen still, eyes wide with fear. No, he tries to moan again, but no sound is wilful enough leave him. Humiliation weighs upon his bound shoulders.

“No, you’re right !” the shadow nods in agreement, tightening its grip on his face. The stone that shattered his nose cuts further into him. “No ! You didn’t fail to keep it… you were never worthy of it in the first place !”

His wrists ache, his arms sing in agony, and the blood running down his face is boiling – he’s stuck, he’s bound in place, he’s lost and he’s alone. But enough is enough, he thinks, squeezing his eyes shut.

ENOUGH IS ENOUGH !

He forces his mouth open and bites down on the shadow’s hand. It yelps and jumps back, clutching its bleeding fingers to its chest. Then he throws his head backwards and, staring into the velvet night sky, screams until his voice is hoarse. The branches around his neck loosen and retreat under his relentless thrashing, and soon he’s managed to free his whole right arm. Struggling amongst the twisted vines, he thumps his chest with his fist and looks at the shadow with fire in his eyes.

“Link will die out there,” it tells him, speaking fast and low. “He’s standin’ all alone in a forest that’s out to kill him, and it’ll succeed. He’s defenceless and weak, waiting for you all by his lonesome, and he’ll die on his stupid quest to get you something you don’t deserve.” It grins crookedly at him and cranes its neck back to laugh. “He’ll die by your hand !”

“HE WON’T !” Ravio cries, cutting right through its grim cackling. The blood from his wound runs down his lips, dripping from his chin. “Link won’t die. He’s fate-defying. And so am I ! I’ve decided no longer to let stupid stories tell me my worth, nor what I can and can’t do ! Who cares if I have the right Triforce or not…? What’s it gonna change to the path I’ve decided to take ?!”

He pauses to catch his breath, staring right at the grinning shadow : “I’ve gone and made a promise to a friend. I need that sword to fulfil it, and _no one_ is going to stop me from getting my hands on it ! I may not be of use in Lorule, but there are other places that could do with an extra brain on their side. If there’s something I can do to make a difference to someone, I’ll _goddamn do it, Triforce or not !”_

“Good,” the shadow smiles, and vanishes.

The darkness swirling above them dies away. Branches and vines that bound him wither in the sunlight, and crumble around him, turning to dust. His feet return to the ground – the numbness that had taken over his whole body retreats, and all at once he can feel the release and the pain, in equal measures. He reaches up to wipe away his blood with a trembling hand.

The shadow stands besides him, a blinding white. Around it wind picks up, and he recognizes in its face his own. It smiles gently and steps forward.

“ _I’m sorry for that,”_ it whispers. “ _You did good. May we speak again…”_

Then it leans in, and kisses his cheek, and in its last breath, tells him : “ _You’re not the first.”_

The wind blows it away into particles of sparkling dust that soon disappear into the lush grass. Colours have returned to his surroundings. Eyes wide with shock, he turns towards the pedestal, and finds the sword glowing.

 _Selflessness. Dedication. Will._ the stone announces in curving letters covered with moss. His eyes pass over it without sight. Shaking hands reach for the sword and wrap around the hilt.

 _Please, let this be over_ is his last plea before he blacks out completely.

From his spot in the forest, Link hears a bloodcurdling scream so vivid that goosebumps spread across his bare arms. There’s no mistaking that voice, and no mistaking that terror; he pulls his sword out of the ground and runs straight towards it.

Had he waited a minute later, he might have seen the black figures approaching in the corner of his eye. But he doesn’t wait – it isn’t in his nature, no more than passivity. He dashes through the woods, narrowly avoiding the trees in his way, until he reaches the clearing. There he sees a bright field of blooming flowers, so out of place in Sweetstone’s dark heart, and in its centre a small stone monument glowing a gentle blue. He walks up to it and finds his companion curled upon it, fast asleep. He holds his very own Master Sword against his chest.

Link shakes, and shakes some more, and it takes him a moment to realise that he’s laughing – he’s so tired, so unsteady that the idea of victory is too strange and refuses to reach him right away. He collapses beside Ravio and sets the slumbering man’s head in his lap. His face is wet with tears.

“ _You did it, you son of a bitch,”_ he tells him, grinning despite his exhaustion. “ _You goddamn did it.”_

Above them, birds start to sing their merry morning song.


	15. Chapter 15

By the time Ravio opens his eyes, the sun has risen.

He takes it slow, blinking in the daylight, and stirs in his spot. Although he’s been asleep for an hour at best, his body feels idle and warm, as though he’d gone through a whole night’s rest. He struggles to wake a numb arm, and forces his eyes fully open to try and figure out the situation.

Oh ! his tired mind chirps, still not fully responding. There’s Link ! His face is above him, tilted upwards towards the sky. While his eyes are open, his gaze is blank, and Ravio suspects that he’s not fully conscious. A soft breeze is toying with his hair, sending strands dancing to and fro while he stares ahead. In the sunlight, his locks glow like golden threats. The sight, so delicate, contrasts brutally with the claw marks and dried blood on his cheek. Hello, Link.

Ravio’s brain is suffering from severe jetlag, and it takes him longer still to figure out that he’s resting on Link’s lap. No matter how hard he tries, he can’t remember how that came to be – he only recalls collapsing onto the stone pedestal, full of pain and anguish. While the anguish seems to have been chased away, the pain is very much still with him. His arms and legs ache with invisible wounds, and his face is burning up with spreading pain. His nose feels hot and cold at once, a sensation which causes him to groan and reach up for his face.

The sound breaks Link out of his daydream; his head snaps down, and after some rapid blinking he’s awake enough to give Ravio a grin. It’s a very brash grin, and a very bright grin, and Ravio is compelled to mirror it, even if it makes his face throb.

“Good morning,” he mumbles. His throat flares up hoarsely, and he decides speaking is off for a little while.

“ _Good morning,”_ Link replies. He looks equally exhausted (and every so often his eyelids begin to droop, and he shakes his head and forces them back up), but the spark in his eyes and the width of his smile say good news, good mood. “ _Hero of Lorule !”_

“ _Hero ?”_ he starts to sign, but his gaze lowers and catches the glint of a blade in the grass. The Triforce has been delicately carved into the sword. It glows a feeble blue under the sun. “ _Oh, yeah !”_

Link scrunches up his nose teasingly. “ _Now you also have a legendary sword, making us the perfect pair !”_ He pauses, looking down at Ravio’s folded arms, and adds : “ _But at what cost, exactly ?”_

“Huh ?” Momentarily forgetting the ache in his throat, the Lorulean sits up straight and examines his hands and wrists. Dark bruising coils around each of his arms. He knows his legs and his neck are marked in a similar manner.

“ _What happened here ? I heard you scream.”_

“Well…” He rubs his wrists, massaging his throbbing bones. “Sorry to answer your question with another question, but did your sword ever, um, speak to you ?”

Link gives him an amused look. “ _What do you mean ? It’s a sword.”_

“Right, right, but… you’ve never met with its guardian or anything ? What happened when you first picked it up ?”

“ _Absolutely nothing.”_ Remembering the crowded room and obsessive chanting gives Link shivers. “ _I just took it and lifted it up, that’s all. Like any other weapon.”_

“Huh.”

Link watches Ravio’s eyes flicker between his sword and his bruises with increasing curiosity, and finally bites. “ _Did you ?”_

“I did,” he confirms, with no great enthusiasm. “I mean, he was just a shadow, but he was there. I guess his role was to test me, and check if I was worthy of the sword. He… actually, I’m not sure I want to talk about it.” He lifts his head up to smile at Link, but his ears flicker downwards feebly. “Not yet.”

Link stares at him a little longer. “ _That’s OK,”_ he says at last, gaze softening. “ _Whenever you’re ready. Whatever the test was, you proved yourself, so it doesn’t even matter !”_

“I guess so. He told me I did good, in the end.” He feels droplets drip onto his joined hands, and briefly wonders if he’s unconsciously _crying_ , but the droplets are bright red and he remembers the stone currently nested in his face. “Hey, any chance we could bandage my nose up ? It still hasn’t stopped bleeding.”

“ _Yeah, let’s do it now. I thought of trying while you were asleep, but –“_ Inches from his bag, Link’s hand freezes in place. His gaze is dead set on the woods spread out around them. Colour has drained from his face. “ _Did you see that ?”_

Ravio tries to look in the same direction, but only trees lie ahead. “See what ?”

“ _I saw a figure. Maybe two.”_

“You mean a monster or a person ?” The tenseness in Link’s face, paired with the feeble trembling of his hands, makes Ravio doubtful. “You know, I think the past few hours have been absolutely traumatic and that you’re just tired, Mr Hero. You need to get some rest – I’ll stand guard, if you like.”

“ _No ! There, again !”_ He points to a crooked tree trunk on the other side of the meadow, and this time Ravio catches a glimpse of a tall shadow hiding behind it.

“I saw that,” he mutters, and pulls himself onto his feet. His ankles groan as his bones snap back into place. He picks his sword off the floor and clasps it in both hands. “Don’t you think they look a bit too normal ?”

Link does likewise and stands beside him, blade at the ready. “ _Right. We can’t really tell from here, but I think they might be Loruleans.”_

“What the hell are they doing in a forest, then ? Especially this one.”

“ _There are another three over there,”_ Link signs, nodding his head towards a spot to their left. “ _I’ve got a feeling we’re surrounded.”_

“So they’re after us.” The blade in his hand is unnaturally light – Ravio gives it an experimental swish. “I mean, after me. They’re Yuga’s men.”

He reaches for the boomerang hanging from his belt and throws it in a clean arc into the trees. As expected, it doesn’t come back his way. Instead, a masked figure steps out from its hiding place and into the light – it’s followed by five others, scattered around the clearing. They advance upon them without hurry, curved daggers hanging from their loose grips. Long black cloaks float behind them ominously, and although they show no sign of aggressivity, their intentions are rather clear.

“So it’s six against two,” Ravio says grimly. “Which ones do you wanna pick, Mr Hero ?”

“ _Running away isn’t exactly an option this time, huh ? Oh well. I’ll take the three on that side.”_

Back to back, they watch their adversaries ( _hunters_ ) make a steady approach. They have more to say, but with tied tongues and busy hands, conversation comes to a definitive halt. What would they have said to each other, even if they’d had the possibility ? Their heads are full of panic and anticipation, but a dark cloud towers over it all – the thought that, surely, they’re about to kill for the first time.

When we get back to Hyrule, _if_ we get back to Hyrule, I’m giving the queen a piece of my mind, thinks Link. No fighting, huh ? Oh, and no looming threats. Definitely no taking another man’s life. But I don’t see us walking away from this with these guys alive – they’ll hound us. They’ve hounded us so far. And his hands shake, shake, shake around the Master Sword’s hilt.

Breaking promises is OK if it’s a life and death situation, thinks Ravio. Besides, it’s a promise I made to myself, so it isn’t so bad. I’m not betraying anyone’s trust. Even if I never wanted to use it, I’m pretty grateful for the knight’s training now, right ? Let’s see how much of it I remember, and how long I can survive without drawing another person’s blood. And his shoulders tremble, tremble, tremble with the weight of actions to come.

In the end, their thoughts fall short when the first robed man runs forward. Their minds falter, and the only thing left is the sound of the other breathing behind them. It’s the kind of time when the brain retreats, and the heart takes over. They both launch forward at the same time.

Link runs straight towards the incoming figure, sword outstretched and at the ready. The masked man easily dodges the first slash, and the second – the third brushes against his cloak, but only a string of fabric falls down into the grass. He’s quick, the Hylian soon realises, and precise. In other words, he has training that Link lacks.

But there’s another reason his attacks all miss, including the five circular ones he unleashes upon the man next. And it doesn’t come from him – it comes from Link himself. Swinging his sword once more with natural intuition, he can tell : he just isn’t giving it his all.

But how could he…?

Finding him faltering, the assassin steps to the side and out of his defensive stance. His dagger is sent in the direction of Link’s chest, and misses its target by an inch at best. It gleams in the early morning light. The man’s hold on it is certain and decisive; at times, he’s so quick that the blade disappears entirely, a blur in the air, and reappears just in time for Link to jump out of its way. It’s too short to fend off with his sword, or at least he doesn’t know how to, and he settles with running back.

He dares a quick look over his shoulder and finds that Ravio is facing a similar struggle. He’s keeping a fair distance between he and his assailant, keeping his eyes fixed on his dagger. Without the boomerang, currently held captive by one of the onlooking assassins, he’s deprived of his long-distance weapon. He still has the bombs, of course, but they’re shut away in his bag, out of reach.

After all, how could he…?

Link is about to gesture to him, ready to point at the Fire Rod, disregarded and lying untouched by the pedestal, but a cool and sharp object nudges his back. He can only guess what it is. It reminds him, and not a second too early, that’s battling not one but three of these men, and that the other two have decided to step into action.

Alright ! he thinks, and uses the Master Sword’s hilt to punch the assassin behind him in the stomach. With all the faultless reflexes in the world, he couldn’t have seen it coming, and collapses momentarily in the grass. This gives Link enough time to swivel back and run for the nearest tree.

He has Rine to thank for the masterful technique with which he climbs its trunk. If it hadn’t been for hours of playing with her in the woods, pretending to be sly foxes and wild cats, he probably would have slid down it and had his throat cut. Instead, he scrambles up into the safety of its branches and rummages through his bag for the bow.

Ah, pardon, the Magic Bow™ – had Ravio been a mind reader, he would have scolded him for forgetting. He struggles with trembling hands to close that bag and take hold of the weapon. Down below, all three assassins have circled the tree. He guesses they’re looking up at him, but with the black masks in the way, he can’t really tell. This, absurdly enough, makes him laugh.

What the hell is Mr Hero doing up that tree ?

The masked man tries another lunge, which Ravio easily evades. Turns out he hasn’t forgotten as much of his training as he’d have liked – but twelve years of daily drilling did that to a person, and today he’s rather happy about it. He finds their battle stances easy to read, and their moves predictable at best. They’re brutish but careful : in other words, they’ve received training, and so they can be read. This doesn’t make them any less of a menace, but it’s comforting.

“How am I g–“ he tries to say, but a flash of silver narrowly misses his face. He watches purple locks fall down into the greenery. “Hey !”

The assassin tilts his head in a way Ravio decides is at least a little taunting – get your head back in the game, he’s saying. Or we’ll kill you. Ravio doesn’t doubt that for a second, no siree. Thus, he gets his head back in the game and thrusts his sword forward. Had he been half a second quicker, he might have caught the man’s ribs.

The man comes forward with his dagger once more, and this time steel meets steel. Ravio’s sword meets with its end, and he turns it counter-clockwise until the man’s hand is knocked backwards. It’s a neat par that he remembers somewhat liking. The man doesn’t drop his weapon, but he does take a step back, which Ravio immediately fills. It’s almost too easy for his blade to reach the man’s throat, but there it stops. It hovers. On the other end, his hands tremble.

He ends up stabbing into the man’s shoulder, piercing it all the way through. Blood splatters onto the floor, but he’s sure that behind his mask, the man is grinning.

He’s not sure he can break that promise after all.

“ _Fall down already !”_ Link cries silently, striking his knee in his frustration. What kind of armour are they wearing under there ? And if the answer is none, how high is their pain tolerance level, goddamn it ?

Assailant number one, a tall and broad-shouldered fella, has a total of five arrows embedded in his shoulders, chest and upper thigh. Honestly, Link had been aiming for the crotch with that last one and missed. He’s still upright and perfectly still, mask tilted towards him.

Assailant number two and three look similarly built, and both sport three arrow. Assailant three actually almost toppled over at one point, but he’d ended up regaining his balance. It’s all quite disappointing, and Link is growing impatient, which he knows is part of their plan.

The other part of their plan is burning the tree down, which they’re currently working on.

Assailant two has set the grass around the tree trunk on fire some minutes ago, and flames are currently curling up its length. Quite evidently, it’s a problem. It’s a rather urgent one, in fact, since the tree is beginning to topple, and Link doesn’t know what he’ll do if it ends up falling down. These men are driven (probably by money) and incredibly strong – at what point will they back down, if they do at all ? They’re bigger and no doubt stronger than him. They’ll hold out longer if this turns into a test of endurance. And worst of all, they’re here to kill and are unscrupulous about it. Link, for his part, is incapable of taking that step forward.

It would take at best five seconds for him to shoot an arrow into their heads, sending them to their graves. But he can’t do that, and they know it. They’re using it against him.

Slowly, the tree begins to tilt.

“Now, now, fellas. Let’s bury the hatchet ! Not need to pur– Oof !”

“Quiet, weakling,” comes a rumbling voice from behind the closest mask. The dagger is pulled back, having missed its intended target.

“Haha, nice try, but you’re a little late with that insult. Y’see – ouch ! Can’t I finish a single sentence in you guys’ company ?”

The daggers threatening him from three directions come a little closer. Ravio gulps audibly and gives a feeble slash of his sword – the assassins jump back and jumps forward again, leaving no opening. They have him surrounded; he’s stuck, his mouth is dry, and he’s stalling. It isn’t doing very well.

Any extra attempts at humour die down in his throat. He feels spit wash it away, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. He wants to wipe the sweat off his forehead, but moving means attacks and attacks mean counter-attacks which, from this distance, are impossible to dodge. Droplets run down his face, which pulsates to the rhythm of his heartbeat. He isn’t completely sure, but it’s probable that he’s going to die within the next few minutes.

Had he kept an eye out for all three, rather than focus on one, he might not have fallen into their trap – but it’s too late to dwell on it down that he’s been caught. Gleaming daggers are held at an arm’s length, pointed directly at his chest. Together, the assassins take a step forward towards him, and their blades glimmer with the desire to meet in the middle of this ugly spider’s web. How is Link doing ? he has the time to think, toying with the straps of his bag. Hopefully better. Hopefully not yet confronted with the eternal maxim : kill or be killed.

At last, he has his answer.

Killed, surely. To take another man’s life would be haunting. It would be terrifying, and would never leave him – he would, after some time, end up throwing himself off a cliff riddled with grief too heavy to handle. A dagger takes its first swing, making a small dent in his side. His flesh cries out, but he just bites his lip and screws his eyes shut. A second digs threateningly into his back; a third, cold and silent, pressed against his chest. Only a few inches of flesh and blood separate it from his beating heart. It begins to press down.

All at once his entire body is seized by tenseness so poignant that his eyes are forced open and his arms dart up to his sides – it’s his brain screaming for help, for an escape, and for life. I’m not ready, he suddenly grasps, to leave this world. His heartbeat accelerates, quick thumps threatening to break his ribs. Cold with horror, he lifts his head and understands that no one will come and save him now. He has to do it himself.

So he does it himself. He grasps the hilt of his sword and drives it straight into the assassin’s stomach, trying uselessly to ignore the feeling of splitting flesh, the wetness of splattering blood, and the groan of a dying man. He tries not to see the man’s guts hanging halfway out of his wound, resisting feeble attempts to be contained. He sees it anyway. He keeps seeing just in time to watch the man topple onto his knees and fall tip forwards, face in the dirt. Then he leans down and empties his stomach onto the grass.

The assassins have stepped to the side, but their shock is short-lived. As he’s crouching there, hands on his knees, spit and tears dribbling down his chin, one of them hurls himself at him; he steps to the side and watches him crash into the dirt path. In a bloody haze, he stabs his sword neatly into his back and out again, unaware of the blood dripping from it.

His mind is absent – it’s deserted him in the ultimate act of self-preservation, but his body continues onwards without it, for the fear of death is not easily quelled. The third assassin is cut down mid-jump, and dies gasping, clutching at his bleeding chest. Ravio looks at him and sees nothing.

At last he drops his sword. His hands cover up the bleeding spot on his side, and his knees give way beneath him. Bloodied and scared, he curls up and wails.

The tree falls and crashes down onto the forest ground. This time, there are people around to hear it, and the sound is deafening.

Link scrambles onto his feet, avoiding the burning leaves scattered around him, and backs away. The three assassins are on him already, stepping over the smouldering tree trunk with little care. One of them throw his dagger. It misses Link’s head, but slices right through his left ear.

Reaching instinctively to cover it with a hand, Link’s face contorts in pain and his feet nearly trip over each other. He continues stepping away, mind racing – two of them still have weapons they’re extremely proficient with, and to ameliorate the situation, his back has just hit a tree. How is Ravio doing ? he has the time to think, tightening his grip around his sword. If they were together, they could have made a run for it from this spot and escaped the forest. However, Link is alone, and no miraculous plan is revealed to him. With his brashness gone, he’s just a country boy out of his depth. He doesn’t want to kill another person, but sparing them means death for him. Is that a bargain he’s ready to make ?

He looks down at his sword, silently begging it to do something, anything ! If it’s so legendary and powerful, it should be able to help him out of a tight spot. Otherwise, it’s just another rusty blade, and he doesn’t want one – he can buy a cleaner one from Lorule Castle Town’s market for a couple hundred rupees, if he survives this.

As if insulted by this, the blade begins to glow a gentle gold upon him and his surroundings. His heart skips a beat, and he looks all around for the solution to his plight, but nothing appears. Instead, a voice resounds in his head, and it’s so old, so full of echoes and repetitions, that he can hardly make it out. It says :

“ _Do not be scared.”_

And that, he thinks, is the laziest century-old advice anyone could give ! His gut twists and clenches and does all sorts of somersaults, while his cheeks flare with newfound anger. Do not be scared ! There are blades nearly at his throat, cutting through the air with sharp sounds. Do not be scared ! They’re pressing into his throat, but his blood is being pumped so hard that he hardly feels them – he just feels the tenseness of his body, pressed hard against the tree, and the blood dripping from his ear, pooling on his cloak. It’s rather unpleasant. So is, he finds, the idea of death at the hands of such men – I will, he thinks, die whenever I see fit, and no one will make that decision for me.

His hands cease trembling, and he stops sweating entirely. He stares onwards so blankly, and with such anger, that he doesn’t realise what the sword had done – he will, in fact, never come to realise it, for he will never think of it again. With a simply four words the blade had erased his fear, allowing his other emotions to resurface, and with it his nightmares and guilt were washed away. For years he will wonder how he could have left those men in such a horrid state, without ever understanding that he wasn’t himself. Not completely.

 _And I am become death,_ the blade sighs in his hand, and sorrowfully sings as he makes his first move. The assassin’s head rolls clean off. Limbs are hacked off, chests stabbed open, and in the middle of this bloodbath the Hylian had stared onward sightlessly. He won’t remember a fickle of this, because in this instant he isn’t just Link but all of them at once.

Do not get me wrong – he took the step that every warrior must take. He himself made the conscious decision to save his own life, and to face the consequences thereof. He just needed a little help to deliver the blows, but who doesn’t ? Who goes forth, without a little help ?

He walks back into the clearing without looking back, and collapses besides his weeping companion. Around them, blood has spread across the flower field.

Such is war.

When he comes to, his disorientation is such that he first believes he is back on the boat.

Oh good, he dreams. Back to Rowmore, freed of danger and responsibility. They’re returning to Ravio’s windmill home, and dropping all of their bags down in the entrance. He collapses onto the couch while Ravio lights up the fireplace and they curl up in the warmth and comfort of the little shop and sleep at last. And when he opens his eyes the next morning, snug beside Ravio’s sleeping form, he sees…

The forest.

Trees stand all around him, left behind as he moves forward. But he isn’t moving, he’s still limp and sore and strangely weak. When his senses return to his whole body and he feels hands wrapped around his ankles, he understands. He reaches out and gently places a hand on the top of Ravio’s head.

The Lorulean still jumps despite his precautions, but makes no sounds. He doesn’t turn his head around to speak to him.

“Welcome back,” he tells Link hoarsely, and it all comes flowing back.

Pressed against a wall – no pressed against a tree, rough bark harshly bruising his back through his cloak and tunic. Shaky hands, sweat and tears, blades coming closer, but when he reaches for his neck he finds no marks. Wailing in the background, faint and static, repeating itself over and over like a howl. Walking away from so much blood, and a head, just a head, a head with open eyes gazing upwards and seeing only darkness.

He’d killed.

He slides off Ravio’s back and, half-kneeling, vomits enough times to empty himself completely. He’s still dry heaving when his companion turns and joins him, offering him a shoulder to lean on. They stay there in silence, looking at their feet, and when Link is ready he stands up again and they continue onward.

“ _Where are we going ?”_ he asks.

“Away,” comes his reply. “Out of here.”

And they talk no more for the rest of the journey.

The first rays of sunlight on Link’s face draw his first tears. The forest ends as brutally as it begins and all at once they’re stepping out of its twisting woods and into the open. The grass is lush and thick, shining with morning dew – it’s alive and gently tussled by the breeze. They can finally see the sky in all its cloudy glory. There’s no scuttling, no sounds of scraping metal : it’s just them and the fields.

He sits down and cries.

Ravio sets down their bags and settles down besides him, cross-legged in the grass. His face is red and tear-tracked, but his eyes are quite dry. He puts an arm around Link’s trembling shoulders.

Link looks up at him, wondering how the hell he’s holding together so well, but he remembers the grieving wails in the meadow and suspects he’s already gotten his breakdown over with. This makes him a little shameful of his own state, and he tries to wipe the snot off his face with a gloved hand.

“ _I killed someone,”_ he mouths with shame.

“So did I. But if we hadn’t, they would have killed us.”

There’s no excuse for it, and they know it, but this fact is comforting, and it lulls away a little of their trauma. Ravio manages a grin half as bright as usual and taps Link’s shoulder. “We made it, didn’t we ? We survived. And we’ll never have to do that again.”

“ _Right…”_ The vibration of his blade reverberating with the sound of split flesh is already fading from his memory, and while he’s glad, it worries him. “ _Never again.”_

He looks up at his companion, finding very fragile cheerfulness in his eyes, and decides that he’s right : they’ve made it through, somehow, a forest designed to be their graveyard. Now they have to go on, because there’s so much left to do. They have to get on with it.

While he’s looking, he also notices the shorter strand of hair that Ravio now sports, and reaches out to touch it.

“ _Got a haircut ?”_

“Yeah,” he chuckles, face faintly flushed. “Those guys were kind enough to give me one for free.”

“ _Wow, how thoughtful !”_ He looks at the other side of Ravio’s face, and at the golden ring that closes around his side hair. “ _You lost your other ring, though.”_

“It’s alright ! When we go to Castle Town, we can buy something nice to replace it.”

He retrieves his arms from around Link and throws them back in a lazy stretch – they’re both trying very hard to keep acting like things are normal. Link has a feeling that if they do it long enough, it’ll end up being true.

“ _Pass me my bag, please ?”_

“Sure,” Ravio says, and reaches for its strap. “Gonna bandage up that bleeding ear ?”

To be frank, Link had forgotten – now he reaches up to touch it, and finds his skin split neatly at the bottom. A small triangle of flesh is missing. He cringes back and pulls his fingers away.

“ _Well what about your nose ?”_ he asks. It’s stopped bleeding, but it’s still crooked, and the stone is still dead set in his face.

Ravio pulls their first-aid kit out and starts unrolling bandage. He sets it down next to the antiseptic and shakes his head. “I don’t think it’s such a great idea to do it ourselves, actually. The stone is pretty deep in, and if we take it out blood’s probably gonna come gushing out.”

“ _We’ll go see a doctor, then.”_

“Yeah…” He shifts onto his knees and moves closer to Link. “You know the drill – it’ll only sting a moment !” With this warning he grasps the tip of Link’s ear and dabs the wound with antiseptic. Cleaning the burn had been easy and bearable, but it’s an open wound they’re dealing with this time and Link cries out silently, thrashing in his hold. The burning sensation spreads through his whole ear and even reaches his temple, but Ravio holds on hard and doesn’t let him get away. Once he’s satisfied with his handiwork, he wraps Link’s ear up with two layers of bandage, and finally lets him go. The Hylian collapses dramatically into the grass.

“Always so theatrical, Mr Hero,” he teases. “Well, here’s your chance to torture me back !”

He shows Link the rip in his tunic, and the resulting dent in his side. It isn’t too deep, but it’s bled all over his clothing and keeps trickling, refusing to clot. Link makes lie on his back and dabs away the excess blood off the surface.

“ _Can I just…pour it on ?”_ he asks, taking the cap off the antiseptic bottle.

Ravio groans, already fidgeting. “Just get it over with ! If it’s as bad as you make it out to be, I’d like it done fast !”

“ _Okay, then.”_ He tips the bottle over the wound and lets a few drops fall. They sizzle slightly. Ravio yelps but holds quite still, so he continues pouring it under the whole cut is more or less submerged. “ _Are you okay ?”_

But Ravio doesn’t respond, because his teeth are gritted and his jaw tense, and the redness of his face tells Link he isn’t having a very good time.

He does his best to mop up the liquid and clean out the wound well enough for it to be dressed. It looks like it might need minor stitching, and while they have the equipment, Link is too scared of botching it up. He covers it with several layers of gauze.

“Done ?” the Lorulean asks, tentatively opening his eyes.

“ _Almost.”_ Link uncorks one of their health potions and passes it over. “ _Here you go.”_

Ravio downs it in one gulp and lies down again, sprawling out amongst grass and flowers alike. Link repacks everything back into their bags and goes to lie beside him. Blue is starting to peek out of the clouds as the sun travels higher into the sky. It’s a calm morning. The world doesn’t blame them.

“ _So what next ?”_

“Next…” Ravio hums. He’s crossed his arms behind his head. “Ideally, next we make our way to Castle Town and go meet Hildie.”

“ _Mhm…”_ Link’s body feels heavy, like the earth is trying to pull him under – he’s exhausted. His arms lie like lead on each side of him, and his legs groan with discomfort when he tries to move them. He doesn’t have the strength to turn towards Ravio, but he suspects he’s in the same sorry state, if not worse. After all, he has all those bruises.

“But I don’t think we can do that… If I try to stand up, I’ll probably collapse.” Ravio laughs a rumbling laugh, shifting onto his side. His voice is slower than usual, trailing off for a few seconds mid word. “So I say we…”

“ _Rest,”_ Link finishes in a whisper. His chest goes up and down slowly. In a safe place at last, they can relax, even if it’s just for an hour. He lets his eyelids droop and his head loll to the side. Sleep, take me now.

He expects blood to splatter under his eyelids, severed arms flying towards him, guts spilling again, but sleep does take him now. His mind goes blank and lulls him until consciousness escapes him completely. He will have nightmares, many nights, but not yet. Now he sleeps. And he sleeps so deeply that nothing can rouse him, not even Ravio’s tortured moaning, not even his tears, not even the weight of his frame when he unconsciously slips into the comfort of his arms, too haunted to sleep peacefully alone. Link rests for two, and his warmth eventually chases Ravio’s ghosts away. For now.

“Well ?”

The knight – Ferd of name, a tall and devoted fellow, currently crouching behind a patch of particularly tall grass with binoculars in his hands – looks up from his post and does what little of a salute he can manage from this position. He sets the binoculars down.

“They’re alright, sir,” he tells his superior, nodding towards the field. Close to the forest’s edge, two figures are fast asleep. “Wounded, but not seriously. They’re resting right now, sir.”

“What of the Midnight Touch ?”

Ferd scratches his head. “No sign of them, sir. But, um, I think they might have killed them. They’re splattered with blood. We’d have to go into the forest to check, but no one is very enthusiastic about that, sir…”

The elder knight nods. “I can understand that. And what of the sword ?”

“He has it, sir ! It seems their mission was successful. Should we escort them back to the castle ?”

“No,” he says. He extends a gloved hand, and Ferd drops the binoculars into his palm. “The Queen told us to intervene only if their safety was jeopardised. It seemed we arrived too late to do most of the work – although I’d be grateful if none of the troops communicated this to her.”

“Of course, sir,” Ferd says wisely.

The elder knight crouches down next to him, struggling to push his armour plates out of the way, and gives the binoculars a try. Over on the other side of the clearing, the kingdom’s lost knight is breathing shallowly, resting against his travel companion. Beside him lies the bloodied Master Sword, token of his success. He looks at the two young men, sleeping with their arms loosely wrapped around each other, and decides that everything doesn’t need to be reported.

“Very well,” he calls to his troops, rising to his feet. “We’re moving out. We’ll tail them when they start down the path to Castle Town. Ferd, find us a place to rest !”

Ferd scrambles to his feet and runs in the direction of Riverbed Inn. He will, of course, be sorely disappointed.


	16. Chapter 16

“You first.”

Castle Town is busy and bristling with chatter – with lunch hour approaching, everyone is out on the streets preaching their goods. It’s as crowded as Link remembers, and from their spot at the foot of the village’s open gates, they can hardly see the square ahead. To Link, feeling peaceful human presence for the first time after their forest adventure is an immense comfort, and he knows Ravio must surely feel the same, which is why he doesn’t understand his reticence.

“ _Why ? It’s your town !”_

“Well, not really,” Ravio grumbles, toying with his shorter strand of hair. He refuses to look up and into the crowd. “I haven’t been here in six years. And I didn’t leave on the best of terms with it.”

“ _Yeah, but it’s fine now, right ? You have the sword.”_

The Lorulean only sighs when Link bumps his fist into the hilt of the sword hanging from his belt. “I thought it would reassure me, but it makes me feel worse about it ! Won’t it attract more attention…?”

“ _Hey,”_ he tries gently, “ _I had to ask around for you, before I accidentally found Lurelei’s shop. No one remembered anything when I mentioned your name. I doubt you’ll have trouble blending in with the crowd.”_

“What, ‘cause you think I’m the only sod called Ravio in Lorule ?” He shakes his head, a little smile breaking the tenseness in his expression. “It’s been the name of every hero since the dawn of time, so it’s obviously popular. If you’d ventured out of your village back home, I bet you’d have found a handful of guys called Link, too.”

Link, who had not thought of that, is forced to nod contemplatively.

“You’re just too cute, Mr Hero,” he teases. “Well, my name isn’t the worst of it – I’m mostly worried someone might recognize me, or something.”

Surely you’ve changed in six years, Link wants to tell him, but he knows he’ll be wasting his time – besides, Ravio’s eyes are glued to his shoulders and his gaze is insistent enough to give Link a clue about what might calm him down.

“ _Scarf off !”_ he signs, reaching up to undo the clasps on his cloak. Ravio hums with delight and pulls the wool away from his neck. Link throws the cloak over his shoulders and pulls its hood up. Then he takes the scarf and wraps it around Ravio’s neck on top of the blue fabric. “ _Happy now ?”_

“Oh absolutely !” Ravio squeaks from under all the layers. “I can never thank you enough, Mr Hero.”

He’s lucky that the colours complement each other, or he would have looked distinctively ridiculous. Under the spring sun, he looks like a disgruntled traveller from a cold, distant land – his face is nearly invisible behind his setup, cast into shadows. If anyone were to look beyond them, however, and lean in very close, they would have caught more features of his face – its paleness, the dark, bruise-like circles beneath his eyes, and the quasi-spasms of his eyes that make him look like he’s chasing something out of his vision. It’s ugly, and Link knows he looks much the same. Periodically his hands tremble, in short bursts. There’s no questioning the cause of their state.

“ _Not a problem,”_ he says, pushing himself to smile. “ _Now I do insist that you go first.”_

“I have no more arguments against it !” Ravio chirps, and steps through the gates.

They’re met with a familiar wall of sound, for stepping into Castle Town is much like stepping into a lively bubble. Voices of merchants, shoppers and children all mingle and bounce off the cobblestones. Ravio steps forward through the crowded square, trying his best not to push anyone, and with Link following right behind him they successfully reach the fountain area, where they pause for a moment. People stick to the walls where the stalls are set up, and the centre of the square is thankfully less packed.

“Gentlemen !” a man says, whizzing to their side with a tray flat atop his palm. Link recognizes him instantly. “Care for a madel– say, haven’t I seen you around recently ?”

Without giving Link an opportunity to reply, he nods with some certainty. “Yes, of course. A few weeks ago, was it ? Have you found your friend, sir ?”

“ _Not yet,”_ Link grins, motioning to Ravio sitting beside him under all those layers. He has to be sweating like a pig. “ _I found someone to travel with, though.”_

“Delightful !” the man exclaims. “Are you interested in pickin’ up a couple of pastries again, sir ? I’ll give you a discount. Let’s say fifteen rupees for five.”

“ _Fine by me.”_ Link fishes into his wallet and passes three blue rupees over. “ _Thank you very much.”_

“No trouble, sir !” the man says. He lays the goods down in Ravio’s lap and, with a brief farewell, disappears back into the crowd.

Ravio picks up one of the madeleines and takes a thoughtful bite. He takes his time with each chew. Link wishes he could see his face a little better.

“Man, these are good,” he says a last.

“ _I bribed a kid with one, last time I bought them.”_

They share a cheerful grin – Ravio swallows and finishes his pastry. “I used to eat so many of these, when I was a kid. They’re a Castle Town speciality, I think, ‘cos I’ve never found one outside town that tastes quite the same !”

“ _You can have all five, if you want,”_ Link tells him. It’s nice to see him in a good mood after the hideous night they’ve had.

“And deprive you of them ?” he asks, theatrical astonishment amplifying his voice. “Thankin’ you kindly, but I won’t be takin’ you up on that offer, no sir.” He nudges two towards Link and selects a second one for himself. “Y’know, this is weird. I still have plenty of memories of this place, but they’re really vague. I used to play with a bunch of boys around here, but their names ? Lost in time !”

Link shifts to face him and gives him a curious look. “ _But you grew up here, right ? You’ve gotta have some concrete memories. I mean… I remember a lot of weirdly specific stuff about my village that I wouldn’t forget if I moved away, like where I first cracked my knee open, and where I learned to hunt. You know ? Kids stuff.”_

“Well sure ! But you got to grow up normally – I was practically handpicked outta the cradle. Me n’ Hilda n’ Yuga, we were really sheltered. Had to practice this and that, with really strict schedules… That’s why I ran off into Anvil Street a lot. Most of my good childhood memories are over there.” As if to reinforce that statement, he lifts his head up for a moment and breathes in the town’s scent – that bready, sweet odour that infected every house – and finds himself smiling. “Still, it’s nice to visit again.”

Link is happy to relax for a while and let the little square absorb him, but nagging worry has returned to his mind and is working its way to the front. With Hilda’s doorstep so near, he’s eager to go to her and return to his world. It’s quite selfish a desire, for this is Ravio’s return to the castle he’d been forced to flee, but he can’t quite repress it. It tugs the corners of his lips downwards and lines his face darkly.

Ravio, ever so perceptive, damn him, doesn’t miss it. He sweeps the rest of their pastries into Link’s bag and slides over to his side, bumping their shoulders together. The Hylian looks up at him and, upon finding him in his ridiculous attire, can’t help but snort out with laughter.

“Yeah, yeah,” he smiles. “It’s funny. But hey, Mr Hero ! I know you’re really anxious to go home and check on Rin.”

“ _Rine.”_

“Oh, it’s not pronounced Rin ? Anyway, the point still stands. And the reason I’m with you is to help you, right ? But I just wanna ask you a teeny tiny last favour before we go into the castle.”

Link looks at him flatly. “ _You wanna see Lurelei.”_

“Actually, I –“ He raises an eyebrow at Link, visibly amused. “Yeah, I wanna see Lurelei. Mind reader much ?”

“ _On my good days,”_ Link signs smugly, and wipes the crumbs off his lap. He offers Ravio a helping hand, which he accepts, and pulls him back onto his feet. “ _Let’s be off, then !”_

The pool of blood is still there. No one’s bothered to clean it, nor even to track the bloodied footsteps that ran halfway down Anvil Street before fading away. It glistens almost cordially under the feeble rays of sunshine that manage to penetrate the damp alley. Both of them stand in front of it, looking only faintly surprised.

“Well, that’s generally not a good sign,” Ravio remarks.

Link stares at it and finds within him a disturbing and new emotion toying with his guts. It isn’t disgust, nor fear, but some sort of hybrid that makes him rip his gaze away from the puddle and set it elsewhere, anywhere that isn’t bright crimson. His mouth tastes foul.

Ravio, crouching down in front of it, looks less affected. He rises and takes a big step over it. In the alleyway’s mossy corner, the shop’s door stands quite closed, bound to the ground by its massive brass ring. The letters above it have successfully become even shabbier looking.

The Lorulean looks remarkably calm, for someone walking over a large puddle of rather vital fluids that most likely belonged to his mentor. Then again, it’s only temporary : he looks remarkably calm, _for now._ Link is worried this is likely to change.

However, when he kneels down in front of the metal door and turns back to look at Link, he’s beaming. He shakes a piece of parchment between his index and thumb.

“They’re fine !” he calls. “This thing says they’re on a… business trip. Wow, I never thought they’d take one of those. Even their writing looks annoyed.”

“ _Where to ?”_ Link asks. His arms are folded over his chest. He refuses to come a step closer to the blood, and has actually been furtively backtracking. The sight of him makes him feel faint.

“Doesn’t say. But if I had to trust my, you know, Triforce Senses, I’d say the castle.”

Link doesn’t answer – or if he does, the message is lost, for he’s already turned his back on the alleyway and started down the main street. Ravio watches him turn the corner with curious eyes, crumples the note into his pocket and runs after him.

Anvil Street hasn’t really changed in six years. It’s still slimy, mouldy and forsaken by sunlight, but that’s what gives it such character : every brick is marked differently by rust and time, and every wall stands tall and proud and old. Wooden signs jingle back and forth in the wind. For a moment, he feels much younger than he is.

He catches up with Link shortly – man, the guy is walking fast ! – and falls into his pace, moving up the long street. Their boots ring on the wet cobblestones. From what he can tell, they’re already heading for the castle, and he has to bite his tongue to keep himself from objecting. In a calm and reasonable tone he reminds himself that he can come back anytime he wants from now on. Castle Town isn’t going to slip through his fingers. For now, and for the first time, he’s on a mission.

Besides, there’s more of his childhood to catch up with, and it’s waiting behind those big gates.

There are two guards standing on each side, sporting lances as tall as them. They both step forward when the two young men stop. Staring blankly ahead, one of them pronounces :

“State your name and purpose.”

“Please,” Ravio adds quietly.

Link nudges him into silence. “ _My name is Link. I need to see the Queen.”_

“State your purpose more clearly,” the second guard tells him. He lifts up part of his helmet and has a good long look at Ravio, still mostly hidden under scarf and cloak. “And the name of your companion, if they cannot state it themselves.”

“My name,” the Lorulean buts in, clearly piqued, “is Ravio. I also happen to be the purpose of the visit, if it’s any help.”

The guards look at each other doubtfully.

“What, like the lost knight ?” one of them hazards, raising a ginger eyebrow.

“No, not _like_ the knight !”

“ _Actually,”_ Link cuts, stepping in front of his belligerent companion, “ _it’s a little complicated, and we, uh, would really like to talk about it with the Queen. I saw her a few weeks ago and she’s expecting me, so…”_

The guards share another look, even less convinced than last time. They take a few steps back and, without taking their eyes off them, start to whisper to each other. Link can feel his eyes twitch towards the back of his skull.

“ _Why are all of Lorule’s knight such pains in the ass ?”_

“Gotta be glad I was never knighted,” Ravio grumbles. He’s pulling the clasps in the cloak undone, struggling a little with the buckles. His hands are still seized with faint trembles. He manages to tug the last one out and starts unwinding his scarf.

“ _What are you doin– humph !”_

He peels his cloak off his face and glares at Ravio’s merry face. The young man doesn’t answer, and unties his scarf enough for it to hang loosely from his neck and shoulders, leaving his face exposed. He smiles up at the sun.

“Oh, boy, that’s nice. It was way too dark under all that.”

And once he’s stretched and let the wind cool him down for a few seconds, he strolls over to the guards and taps one’s shoulder with an inquisitive index.

They turn towards him with a murderous expression that melts off their faces in an instant. They speed through all five stages of grief, looking wide-eyed into Ravio’s face. It takes them a whole minute to close their mouths, and when they do, they step out of the way.

“We’re, um, sorry,” one of them babbles, looking very hard at his feet. His partner is actually sweating a little.

Ravio walks forward and through the gates without pause, so Link jogs up the first steps and goes up the next few by his side. He gives him a look of unrestrained confusion, daring a quick glance at the knights only to find them glancing back.

“To be honest,” he says, when they’re halfway up the stairway that leads up to the castle, “I was expecting them to react _that_ badly.”

“ _Any ideas why ?”_ Link tries.

“Well, yeah.” He pauses to scratch at his knee. “I don’t know how much Hildie told you, but when it was revealed we all had the wrong Triforce, it was more or less agreed that we’d hush it up by pretending there’d only been a mix-up between two. If people had found out that she didn’t have the Triforce of Wisdom, there’d probably have been a civil war, or something. So to prevent that, I ran before anyone could publicly check mine. As far as the citizens of Lorule are concerned, I have the Triforce of Power.”

And that, Link is sad to realise, explains it. If there’s one thing apart from fanatism that transcends borders, it’s apparently the engrained fear of the designated bad guy.

“Anyway,” Ravio says, tone cheerful once more, “It doesn’t matter anymore ! I have the Master Sword, so we should be able to discredit Yuga once and for all. I’m sure Hildie’s been under awful stress these past few years…”

“ _She’ll be happy to see you,”_ Link tells him.

Ravio gives him a soft smile. They stop at the top of the stairs, at the foot of the large wooden doors that mark the entrance to Lorule Castle. He puts a hand flat against one of them and says : “I sure hope so !”

Hilda has been tense since they’d stepped into Castle Town, when she’d first felt their presence. She’s been waiting and waiting and trying her best to be on her best behaviour, on her royal behaviour, with all the good manners and patience included. She’s sitting on her throne when the doors start to open, legs loosely slung over one of the armrests, keeping herself from tearing holes into her gloves with all the fidgeting she’s doing, and when the first of their duo steps inside she’s already on her feet, hovering hopefully, squinting to make out which one she’s facing.

“Hello, Hildie,” he says. He doesn’t move any closer, not even when Link closes the door behind them and takes a few steps ahead. How very like him to, after seven years, keep her waiting longer.

She isn’t up to it, however, and with wet eyes she runs across the room and throws her arms around him very ungracefully indeed, and squeezes him as tight as she can. Against his shoulder she lets out a little sob, equally undignified – what would her ministers say ? His arms hover a short distance away from her back, and at last he hugs her back, leaning into her embrace.

“You’ve gotten taller,” she says in a trembling voice. Despite her high heels, she has to lean on her toes to reach him.

They separate reluctantly and stand a few feet apart. It dawns upon him very suddenly that he’s actually facing her after so long, and his eyes fill up with tears. He smudges them off his cheeks and beams at her.

“Hildie, look at you, you’re all grown up and pretty !” he laughs, reaching out to cup her pale face.

She smacks his shoulder playfully, like she used to in the days. “So are you ! Oh, but Ravio, what happened to you…?”

“Huh ?” It’s only when he feels her gloved hands brush against his nose and bruised neck that he understands. “It’s nothin’ ! Just the side-effects of adventuring, you know ?”

“Yes, you always were needlessly reckless.” She smiles at his oh-so-offended expression and steps to the side. Link is standing with his back against the closest pillar, wearing the most awkward look she’s ever seen. When he notices she’s looking at him, he gives her a little smile.

“Thank you, Link,” she tells him, “for bringing my friend back to me.”

He nods, and leaves it at that.

She can tell he feels out of place, and won’t have it. “It seems Lorule is only increasing the debt it owes you. Please, let me offer you something as a thanks ! No – don’t give me that look, I know it all too well thanks to this idiot. Think about it.”

“ _I… I will,”_ he agrees. “ _Thank you.”_

“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re the one who deserves thanks.” She turns back towards Ravio and nods. “In the meantime, I believe you two need a few things you’re too polite to ask for : food, a bath and rest.”

“I’m not too polite for that,” Ravio grins.

“Believe me, I know.” She ignores his cackling and turns on her heels to lead them further into the room. “I’m going to call the court physicians and ask them to examine your wounds – they have another patient on their ward, but five minutes won’t hurt. While they do that, the cooks will prepare something warm. Is that alright ?”

Link and Ravio look at each other briefly and nod in unison. Their party reaches a small rest area furnished with velvet couches and matching cushions. Link feels bad for bleeding all over them, but his legs give in under him and he melts into the soft fabric. Ravio sighs and closes his eyes, settling down next to him.

Hilda smiles at their tired, laboured faces. They’re an endearing sight. “Rest for a little while. I’ll be right back.”

She gives her childhood friend a last furtive glance and vanishes into the next room.

“Well that was something,” Ravio says. He still hasn’t opened his eyes, and reaches up to rub them.

“ _What a cute reunion,”_ Link signs, one step over the border of teasing. Ravio is too tired to offer a reaction worthy of his usual ones and simply pouts instead.

“It was nice, though… you know, I was really worried she’d have changed, and I wouldn’t recognise her. Seven years is a pretty long time !” He laughs. “But she’s just the same as ever. A but more royal, sure, but hey, she’s the _queen_. I bet when we get to talk properly, she’ll turn out to be just as snarky as before.”

“ _Really ?”_ He doesn’t know if it’s because of how frail she looks, but he can’t imagine it.

“Oh, yeah. You wouldn’t suspect it, right, but she’s got a big mouth. What can I say, we grew up together ! She’s always been small and thin and kind of sickly lookin’, and the shock on people’s faces when she ripped them down was… easily the funniest part of our early teenage years, honestly.”

Link tries to picture a younger version of them running around town and making scenes. It brings a grin to his face.

Down the corridor, footsteps approach their spot. Two figures turn the corner and start towards them at a brisk pace. From their white tunics and high collars, Link assumes they’re the court medics Hilda had just mentioned, although how they got here so fast remains quite the mystery. They turn out to be twins, a woman and a man sporting strict and straight fringes of plum coloured hair that nearly reached their eyes. They don’t bother bowing, nor introducing themselves; they kneel and open up the kits they’ve been carrying, before starting on their assigned patients.

They’re quiet throughout the entire procedure, except for a few groans and cries. The woman douses Link’s ear in antiseptic ten times stronger than the one they’d been using, and admonishes him when his face scrunches up in pain. Beside him, the man has made Ravio lie his head down and is using a sharp pair of tweezers to work the stone out of his face. The Lorulean must be under absurd amounts of anaesthesia, because he stares onward and doesn’t say a word.

Bandages are changed, swapped, or removed entirely. The twins work efficiently in complete silence which neither patient interrupts. While the wound on Ravio’s side is stitched up, the bandages slapped onto Link’s burn are ripped off, revealing scarring flesh. She cleans it up with lotions he’s never seen and puts thinner gauze back on it. The scratch marks on his cheeks aren’t, it seems, worthy of her attention.

They finish their work within the announced five minutes, and withdraw without a goodbye. Their patients, who had been sitting unconsciously with their backs very straight, now slump back into the comfort of velvet. Link wonders briefly if they’ll have the time to squeeze in a small nap.

And they do, for another five minutes at most : Ravio daydreams in rare silence and Link tries to get some quick sleep. He finds within the first minute that he won’t get very far, for every time footsteps cross the nearby corridor, he tenses up and opens his eyes. He gives up on his nap plans and settles on observing Ravio, instead. He guesses he’s thinking about Hilda, because occasionally he’ll look thoughtful and break into a grin or a quiet laugh. He’s lucky to be burying recent memories by reliving older ones, and Link hopes he’ll react the same when he returns to Rine : with unbridled gladness and contagious joy. In the meantime, he tries to swallow his envy.

When their time is up, the queen returns with a spring in her step. She smiles as soon as they come into her line of sight, and clasps her hands together.

“The chefs will have something ready soon,” she says. “While we wait, we can go and sit at the table.”

Both rise, or attempt to – Ravio, groaning, needs a little help. “Oh, Hildie…”

“Nothing formal, you human sloth,” she tells him lovingly, and reaches to lift him up herself. “Just lunch between friends, old and new.”

“ _Yeah, I never thought I’d hear you complain about lunch,”_ Link teases, and shares an amused look with Hilda.

Ravio rips away from her grasp with a dramatic shake of his arm and starts down the corridor. “I can’t believe you two are already ganging up on me. We’ve been here what, fifteen minutes ?”

Laughing, his two friends run up to him and link arms.

“…scrambling, frozen with fear, right, and then BAM ! It spits this jagged stone right into my face and it splits my nose. Just like that !”

“Why, that sounds dreadful,” Hilda remarks, but there’s a gentle smirk at her lips. Clearly, she’s heard dozens of stories told in this exact same tone, but she isn’t sick of it yet – it’s been, after all, so long.

“Well, it was !” Ravio exclaims, a tad defensively. “Wasn’t it, Mr Hero ?”

“ _Awful,”_ Link agrees, and it was at the time, but now they’re out of it and Ravio is recounting the event with such gusto, he allows himself a smile of his own. “ _It’s a miracle we’re sitting here now.”_

“It is.”

“Anyway,” she says, setting her wine glass down, “After so very long, you _must_ fill me in on what you’ve been up to. Seven years is quite some time to fill !”

Ravio grins. “Ah, yes ! It was frightening as hell to run away from home, so I hung around here for a year workin’ in Castle Town for an inventor down Anvil Street. All those books I used to keep around as a kid came in really handy !”

“Even the ones I used to gift you because they were too boring for me ?”

“Oh, those especially. Everything about energy and mechanics ! Actually, after I left town, I opened up my own engineering workshop and made my own stuff. I’d love to show you, me and Link hauled some of it over. My time with Lurelei was really eye opening, I guess. I was never made for–“

He pauses mid-sentence, aware quite suddenly of Hilda’s heavy gaze on him. He doesn’t like the look on her face. In the past, it’s meant crisis.

“Was it something I said…?”

“Yes.” She looks between Link and him. “The inventor, with a shop on Anvil Street…”

“ _Lurelei,”_ Link signs. “ _It’s thanks to them that I found a trace of Ravio and tracked him down.”_

She nods at this claim and, with a sigh, runs a delicate hand down her face. “Yes, of course. So they told me, when they arrived on my doorstep with the news that you two might be in danger.”

Ravio and Link look at each other with wide eyes; the Lorulean cocks an eyebrow. They share a knowing grin.

“Triforce Senses,” he laughs. “When have they failed us ?”

“ _Wisdom strikes again.”_

“I’m glad you’re happy to find them here,” she interrupts, cutting right through their good mood, “But I have some more information regarding them. When they showed up, they were covered in a variety of injuries, and initially refused treatment.”

Ravio, who can’t decide between worry and surprise, ends up saying nothing.

“They collapsed shortly after our conversation, and the court physicians were quite clear : it was infection. Don’t look so scared, now – they’re in a stable condition, but completely unconscious. If you were hoping to talk to them, I’m afraid it’ll have to wait…”

He nods very faintly at this news, as if struggling to wrap his head around it. “Do you, um, know what happened to them ? What caused the injuries, I mean.”

“They told us that Yuga’s men had attacked them. They defended themselves well enough to kill a few of them and survive.”

“That’s funny,” Ravio comments, and doesn’t elaborate. He’s frowning, green eyes clouded. Link reaches under the table and places a soothing hand on his knee – the Lorulean tilts his head back up and smiles gratefully.

“ _Can we go and visit them ?”_ Link asks for him.

“In the medic ward, yes. I’ll make sure the doctors allow it.”

“It’s alright, then,” Ravio chirps. He’s pulled himself back up within a moment, a skill Link admires him for. “As long as I can see them again before me and Link move on, I’m happy. But what about you, Hilda ? How have the past few years been for you ?”

“Oh !” she exclaims, taken aback by the quick change of mood. “Well, there’s been ups and downs. As you might expect, Yuga has made things difficult, but we’ve been managing the situation quite well. I think we both had to grown up very fast, after our twelfth birthdays.”

“I guess so.” He grins at her. “Hey, I just remembered – what about bread girl, by the way ?”

Unexpectedly, Hilda’s cheeks flare up. “Why, that was years ago…”

Ravio turns to Link and stage whispers in his ear. “When we were kids, Hildie took a liking to the daughter of the baker who used to deliver to the castle.”

“We were good friends !” she rebukes, only half of her heart in it. “I haven’t seen her in a while, now. Don’t you look at me like that ! How dare you tease me for it, when you were always running after –“

The rest of their lunch is drowned away in chatter and laughter and a few bottles of fine wine that Hilda has brought up from the cellar. Catching up is a long process, and they only manage to scratch the surface, but they all rise from the table with the knowledge there’ll be more time for it in the future. Hilda insists on walking them to the castle wing where they’ll be resting to show them their rooms – this process takes longer than it needs, not because of the rooms’ spacious disposition but because she seems reluctant to leave her friend. Ravio grasps her hands and assures her they’ll talk in the evening again, he isn’t going anywhere yet, but he’s too tired to reassure her properly. She ends up leaving them regretfully and hurrying back into the castle’s main frame. Royal business waits for no one.

Thus they’re left standing in front of their respective doors, looking at each other.

“I guess you’re finally getting a bit of a break from me, Mr Hero,” Ravio jokes, leaning against his door handle. Link realises that this is indeed the first time in nearly two weeks that they spend time alone and apart. He wonders if that’s a good thing.

“ _Will you be OK ?”_ he signs, acutely aware that the question is meant for both of them. He has yet to determine his own answer.

Ravio shakes his head gently. “Of course ! We’re taking a nap, not fightin’ for our lives. I’ll be fine ! I promise not to crack my head open on my way to bed.”

That’s not what I meant, and you know it, he stares, but his companion is avoiding his gaze and already turning his doorknob. He gives a little wave before closing the door behind him, leaving Link alone in the corridor. Very well, then. Troubled, he enters his own room.

He sits down on the bed and pulls off his boots, ignoring the muddy trails he’s leaving on the pristine and no doubt expensive carpet. He hasn’t had the opportunity to find himself alone in a silent room in a while, and it weighs on him a little – it isn’t an exact replica, but it feels all too similar to the room he’d been assigned in Hyrule Castle. It had served as a prison of sorts for a whole week.

Adventuring really is tough on the bones, he thinks, tugging his tunic over his head. He feels sore all over, and discovers bruises on his chest he can’t even remember the cause of. Rid of his bloodstained clothes, he throws himself onto the bed and breathes out – he sinks right into the mattress, unfamiliar comfort sending goosebumps down his arms and legs.

As soon as he lays his head back against the pillow and pulls his blanket over his chin, he begins to doubt if he’s going to get sleep at all. Questions spiral in his mind and set his eyes open whenever he tries to close them. Was Ravio really alright ? How was Rine doing ? In how long would they go through the passageway and back into the library – and how would Zelda greet the news of their return ? Was Ganondorf still himself ? Was his village still standing ? Oh, and would he ever get his village clothes back from his room ? He tosses and turns for a while, uncomfortable with this much brain activity. Minutes pass and are replaced in circular succession; the questions become further apart, and less nagging : what would they have for dinner ? How long would his scars take to heal up properly ? Will the bandages stay on when he gets to take a much-needed bath ? His toes curl and uncurl, and he finally relaxes. His eyelids are heavier than the purest lead. He makes no effort to open them and lets his breathing slow.

He slips into well-deserved sleep and curls up on himself – and in his mind, the gentle wind of home blows protectively around him. Orange and yellow leaves crunch under his weight, precursors of an imaginary autumn. Surrounded by such familiar scents and senses, he’ll be able to mend just a little.

The sound of dripping ripples through his mind.

He tries to ignore it for as long as possible, clinging to his fragile sense of peace, but it soon drills into him and makes his ears ring. His eyes open a crack and no more, for the sun ahead is blinding and hot. He tries to locate the sound’s source, and finds red liquid pooling inside curving leaves. Droplets bounce off the surface and splash about. He reaches out to touch and finds it’s thick and warm.

He looks up in the direction of those drops and finds Rine sitting on a low branch of a tree.

“Hello, Link,” she says amiably.

He’s so glad to see her that he tries to clamber up despite his exhaustion, but he can’t move. Pain blooms through his hands and feet when he tries to move them, as though he were nailed to the ground. She watches him struggle with increasing worry.

“What’s wrong ?” she calls. “Link, are you alright ?”

He mouths a reply, but his teeth are gritted and his lips refuse to move. She leans to the side on her perch and squints his way.

“And why are your hands so red…?”

He looks down along his body and realises that she’s right. His arms are soaking and crimson from the elbow down. His nails are a sickening brown. His throat clenches when he understands why.

Rine has disappeared, and in her place, against the tree, stands a man. He doesn’t have a face, but he’s weeping loudly, hot tears flowing down his chin. He’s got an open wound cutting straight through his chest, and stabbed right through it is Link’s trusty sword. Blood is running down the hilt and dripping onto his face. His hands, still pinned to the ground, are of no use.

“ _It was you,”_ the man tells him. He has no voice, but his words reverberate around the forest, and its trees are taller, darker, more crooked than he’s ever seen them. Suddenly he lurches forward and falls. For a horrifying moment Link thinks he might pick himself up again despite the hole in his torso, but he’s still. Link takes a few laboured breaths and tries to move, but he’s being pressed down from every side now : the man’s corpse has fallen right on top of him, where it continues to empty itself.

He can feel his blood, still hot, pool on his tunic and soak through it, sending shivers across his skin. He bucks wildly, trying to escape the sensation, but there’s nothing for it – he’s too heavy, and too dead. The tears still dripping from his eyes mingle with Link’s on his face, following their course down his cheeks and into his mouth; he gurgles, choking on his fear and horror. The man has eyes and they are red and wide open, staring right into his soul. There’s a sickening squelch and Link tries not to think about which part of this man’s guts have just fallen out, but he can’t, he can feel them right there pressing into his abdomen, and he wants to roll over and vomit and get out of this puddle of blood but he’s still, tears and blood and guilt filling his lungs because it’s his work, isn’t it, he’d killed him and left him bleeding on the ground and now he was back to haunt him and kill him right back and his lungs spasm, and he shakes, and his eyes roll back into his head and he wants more than ever to disappear and to see no more and the man’s eyes keep staring, in sickness and in death, amen –

He spasms into a sitting position and takes a loud breath.

His lungs accept the crisp air. The ringing in his ears recedes until it’s completely gone. His vision loses its red tint until the room is back to normal, in shades of purple and blue. His face is still wet, but upon inspection, only from his own tears. He lurches forward on the bed and curls against his knees, the trembles of a wail in his throat.

Outside his window, the sun is setting. The nightmare, that had seemed so terribly quick, had tortured him for hours. For a while he’s too scared to close his eyes again, and just stares at the closest wall, every second afraid something might move and reach for him – and his mind, still struggling for air, asks him : will this stay with us all our life ? Body and mind both shiver at the thought.

When he’s sure he’s not going to throw up, he lies down again and spreads out across the bed. His heartbeat is still irregular, a sure clue he’s not going back to sleep any time soon. Maybe he should get dressed again and ready for dinner. He raises a hand above his face and finds it shaking so violently his eyes have to flicker back and forward to follow it. Alright. No dinner yet, then, unless he wants to cause a wreckage at the table. Besides, even with all the politeness his elders had drilled into him, he couldn’t bear to even look at food. If it turned out to be meat, well, he’d surely double over right there.

This leaves him with one viable option left.

He wraps a blanket around his shoulders and hops off the bed.

There’s a knock at the door.

Dinner already ? his mind supplies, only mildly taken aback. His eyeballs are dry and burning, no doubt bloodshot by now. He sets down the scattered pieces of paper he’s been staring at listlessly for the past few hours and uses one of the blank ones to wipe spilled ink off his fingers. There’s a point of pressure in the centre of his forehead that’s been bothering him; as he clambers up to his feet he rubs it, to no avail. His brain is exhausted, and taking his body down with it, but after last night, he’s decided to avoid sleep for a little while.

He knows it’s his childhood friend at the door, come to fetch him once more, but with shame he wishes it were someone else. Being alone hasn’t worked as well in his favour as he’d hoped. Besides, if Lorule’s queen is behind the door waiting for him, he’s in trouble : he’s let his hair down, finding it all tangle and matted, in certain places, with blood. Rather inappropriately dressed for a royal dinner, he’s abandoned his tunic, belt, boots and socks in an effort to get more comfortable. His undershirt just happens to be less bloodstained, too.

No matter who it is, and how he looks, the knock still needs answering. He limps towards the door, bruised ankles groaning in protest of such intensive activity, and puts a hand on the doorknob. He prepares his best grin for Hilda, but man, he wishes it were for Link.

He turns the doorknob, and the door swings open. Behind it, shivering in the candlelight, a mop of curly blond hair and a teary face appear from under a patchwork blanket that pools at his feet. His visitor’s lips move feebly.

“ _I’m sorry to bother you,”_ they mouth. “ _I’m just… I’m just having a hard time. Can I…?”_

Ravio steps out of the doorway and beckons him inside.

“Come in, Mr Hero.”


	17. Chapter 17

He watches Link take a few wavering steps into the room, and closes the door behind him.

The Hylian is trembling where he stands, his blanket regularly jumping up and down a few inches in time with his shivers. His fingers just about poke out from under it and shake, hooked around the fabric. For a moment, Ravio expects him to topple over and collapse onto the floor, but something – sheer will, he guesses – is keeping him upright. He manages to shuffle forward hesitantly, and Ravio is ready to lead him to his bed if needed, but he veers away from it and walks straight into his arms.

“Oh dear,” Ravio says softly, and wraps his arms around Link and his blanket. Both are closer to hot than warm; he hopes Mr Hero isn’t running a fever. The young man clings to his quilt and presses his face into Ravio’s shoulder. Under his hands, his back feels less tense, his shoulders more relaxed, and he concludes with satisfaction that the Hylian is getting better at hugs.

“Wanna tell me –“ he starts, but Link gives his head a frantic shake, sending blond curls flying. They tickle Ravio’s neck pleasantly. He tightens his hold on him and rubs his back in a way he hopes in comforting. “Okay, that’s fine. Can I, um, take you to the bed ?”

The Hylian is very still for a moment. Then, slowly, he nods his head and takes a few steps back. He reaches for Ravio’s arm and wraps his hands around it – he lets himself be led through the room, stumbling only a few times. From the strength he’s putting in his grip, Ravio can tell it’s bad. He’s desperate for physical connection, so the young man is careful not to break it as he nudges his partner onto the mattress. From under his blanket, Link’s eyes are fixed on the white sheets laid out before him, staring at something only he could see. Nightmares, Ravio knows, do that to people.

Link curls up at the top of the bed, sitting on the few pillows that have been set out. Ravio climbs up and crosses his legs opposite him. The Hylian has yet to let go of his hands, but he isn’t about to take them away. Link’s palms are slick with sweat.

“ _I had a bad dream,”_ he mouths at last, casting his gaze downward.

Surprisingly, for someone so loud, Ravio knows when to keep silent. This is one of those times, and he just squeezes Link’s hands in response. This awakens something within the blond, who flushes with shame and attempts to tug them away.

“ _Sorry I’m so clingy,”_ he tells him, quick words bouncing off his lips. “ _I was scared that I…”_

“Was all alone ?” Ravio finishes in a gentle tone. “Why, Mr Hero, there’s no shame in that.” His hands don’t loosen around Link’s, which soon go limp in his grasp before curling and squeezing back again. “We have to be there for each other, right ?”

“ _Thank you. I didn’t know what to do, on my own after I woke up, and…”_

“You did good in coming over, then ! Besides, you weren’t exactly interrupting the best nap of my life. I was kind of hoping you’d come.”

Link’s eyes flicker to the side, perhaps noticing the heaps of discarded papers that practically covered the floor on the other side of the bed. Perhaps his gaze might have set on the spilt ink and the ripped-up pieces of parchment too. Whatever he sees, it arouses his curiosity and offers a much-needed distraction from his demons.

“ _What were you doing ?”_

“Nothing very interesting.” It’s true – but he’s happy to prattle on, if it brings Link some peace. “I was trying to write a letter. It was supposed to be a short message, for Lurelei to read whenever they wake up. I was kind of scared we’d leave before they would, so leaving a note made me feel better about it.” His eyes glaze over what’s left of his effort. “It didn’t work out too well, though. Maybe it’s just because I’m exhausted and can’t sleep, but it ended up being a mess, and I started over a few times. Nothing came of it.”

Link tilts his head a little. “ _What were you writing to them about ?”_

“It’s funny you’re asking that,” he laughs, albeit bitterly. “I was going for a short and concise note, you know, a quick summary of the last few weeks – something straight to the point, to show how much I’ve matured !” His wink manages to pull a half-smile out of Link. “Anyway, it evolved into something not so fun. Ended up reading like a confession, which is what I needed to write, but not what I wanted to tell them. The last few days have been…tough.”

Link’s sorrowful eyes agree with him.

“And… And, well, I’ve been trying to work through it, and stop blaming myself, but it’s hard. My memories are still really vivid, and even the… the sensations have been sticking around. What happened in that forest is gonna haunt me for a while.”

These mere few words are proof enough that his tactic of advancing through thoughts and isolation was not the right path – where it’s worked in the past, it’s been dragging him down in the present. Just speaking about it, with Link sitting so attentive in front of him, has made him feel lighter.

“ _You look so tired,”_ Link mouths sadly, and he has to agree, for he feels heavy and slow and his eyes are still burning. But there’ll be time for sleeping later, and hopefully not alone.

“Not as much as you, I suspect,” he remarks. Link scrunches up his nose in protest, but without much gusto.

“ _I wish I didn’t. I know I need sleep, but it’s so much worse than being awake. All my defences are down.”_ He pauses to close his eyes briefly, but only ends up shaking his head. His lips twist downward. Ravio leans in, ready to listen.

“ _In my nightmare, I was covered in blood and the… the corpse of one of Yuga’s men dropped down on me and he was screaming it was my fault and just, just emptying himself of his blood and spit, all on top of me, and it was making me choke…”_ His shoulders shake with violent spasms as the images return to him. The sensation of heaviness in his middle makes him gag. “ _I thought I was going to die, but I didn’t, and I never ever want to live that again. I can’t. I can’t !”_

Hot tears course down his cheeks, dripping down into his lap. He rips his hands away and covers his flushed face, trembling again with terror that clung and refused to let go. Ravio refuses to let him convulse all alone in this state and leans forward to pull him into his arms again. The description is dirty and bloody and enough to awaken unpleasant memories within him as well – in his ears, the sound of splitting flesh rings again, and he screws his eyes shut. He needs, he reminds himself, to focus on Link’s presence against his chest. It grounds him enough for him to form a few coherent thoughts, and he wonders how the hell they’d kept it together so well on their way to and through Castle Town.

It had been the distraction, he guesses, but now there’s none. It’s just the two of them clinging to each other and crying their eyes out. It’s an overdue breakdown. They’re both so tired, so emotionally drained, that it doesn’t last very long; and when Link collapses backwards and lies down on the mattress, Ravio goes down with him and settles by his side.

“ _Somehow, I feel better,”_ Link observes. His breathing is shallowing out in its own time. He can’t quite pick the right word to describe it, but staring at the ceiling, listening to the last of Ravio’s sniffles, he feels a special kind of safe.

“Maybe we cried it all out for now.” The Lorulean lets out a loud and wobbly yawn, not bothering to cover up his mouth. Link notices his eyelids drooping again, and his green irises turning milky – they’re fast runners, but sleep is going to catch up to them soon. “Now I’m just – mhm – really drained.”

Link unfolds his arms from around his blanket and spreads it out to share it with his companion. Ravio scurries underneath and curls up to his side. His eyes have closed, and he leans in very slightly; nearly forehead to forehead, Link takes the opportunity to study his face again – the activity soothes him and occupies his mind. He takes in the bandages and scratches and the nasty bruising that’s just turning a bluish tint of purple (he hopes that means healing), and the lines left on his face by tenseness and fear. They’ve melted away for the time being, and the Lorulean looks peaceful.

To Link’s surprise, he isn’t asleep yet, and cracks a wonky grin. “Staring like that, Mr Hero, you’ll leave holes in my face.”

“ _You just look… at peace, that’s all,”_ Link signs defensively. His cheeks are hot.

“If you weren’t frowning like that, you would too. I don’t think ghosts can bother us when we’re together. One of us they can manage, but both ? Way too much to handle. So let’s try to cram in some sleep, okay ?”

“ _Okay.”_

With that, Ravio extends his arms towards him, and Link gratefully slides in between them. With his partner’s arms wrapped around him, and his heartbeat thumping in his ears, he thinks there’s a chance he’ll sleep a mellow sleep and wake up refreshed. A small chance, yes, but a chance nonetheless; and if his luck turns out bad, there’ll be someone to hold him when he wakes.

And if the warm figure beside him, already snoring softly, wakes up first, he’ll be glad to return the favour.

“ _Excuse me…”_

His hand hovers, inches away from the open door. Newt and Joh, inconspicuously patrolling the area around his and Ravio’s bedrooms, had informed him that her Highness Queen Hilda of Lorule spent most of her time in her office when she wasn’t needed in the Throne Room. It had taken four more guards to give him the correct directions, but he’d found it, a tiny room on the castle’s second floor. Her Highness apparently leaves her door open and unlocked.

She looks up from her desk when she hears his knock, and stacks her papers into a neat pile.

“Why, hello, Link ! Is Ravio not with you, this morning ?”

He takes the seat arranged in front of the desk and shakes his head. “ _He ran out after breakfast. He went into Castle Town shopping, I think.”_

“Well, he deserves the leisure time. You’ve both been through a lot, I understand. I’m glad you’ve chosen to rest here for a day or two before going on your way.” She gives him a pleasant smile. “How may I help you ?”

“ _Actually, I’ve thought about what you said the other day – a way to thank me. And I had an idea. It might be too much to ask, but I thought I might try anyway.”_

Crossing her legs behind the desk, the young woman assures him that whatever is it, she’ll deliver.

“ _Well then,”_ he signs, “ _I was wondering if you might show me the archives. About, um, three cycles ago, I mean. The last time someone from Hyrule crossed over.”_

If she’s surprised by his demand, she hides it well. “I thought you might. Curious about your ancestor ? Everything from that time was kept well in order and archived in the library. I’ll take you there, if you’d like.”

He nods, and expects her to lead him out of the room, but she instead scrapes her chair back and reaches for the purple curtain covering part of the wall behind her. With one swift tug, she pulls it aside, revealing a door. She produces a key from her desk drawer and slips it into the lock.

“Follow me, then !”

The library is as musty as its Hylian counterpart, and it takes all of Link’s will to keep himself from coughing as he walks in.

It is, however, much smaller. The ceiling is low and void of decoration, and bookshelves are rowed against every wall, leaving the middle of the room clear. It’s furnished with a round reading table and a curious glass case that stands alone, apart from other displays. It’s the first thing that catches his eye.

He taps the glass with a fingernail. “ _What’s this ?”_

From what he can see, it’s an ordinary leather-bound book, albeit mistreated by time. There’s a word carved into its cover, too faded to be made out. Hilda comes closer and looks over his shoulder at it.

“That is one of my predecessors’ diary. It’s classified as family secrets, since it contains some… sensitive political information, but it directly involves the man whose steps you’re following, so I’ll make an exception.” From a chain hung around her neck she draws another, smaller key. “For him, as well as for you.”

“ _Thank you,”_ he mouths, although she can’t see it. She’s already fumbling with the lock and opening the top of the display. The diary is delicately handed to him, and he sets it on the table. The leather is soft between his fingers.

Hilda looks at it with mixed emotions. “A number of confessions were written by my ancestor within that book,” she tells him with surprising intensity. “I ask that you be delicate with it and understanding of her motives. I’d stay with you while you browse, but as you can imagine, I’m rather overwhelmed. I’m sure I can trust you with it, and the rest of the archives.” She gives him a brief smile and makes for the door. “Call me if you need any help.”

It shuts behind her, and Link is alone, enclosed in dust and books.

In all honesty, he hadn’t expected much from it. With his adventure partner away for the morning and a whole day to spend in the castle, it had been his curious idea of occupying himself for a while. But he’s gotten a little to engrossed in the diary’s study, and now on the fortieth page, he’s actually learning some pretty interesting stuff.

He has to labour through each line, focusing all his attention on each individual word. Once he gets into the right frame of mind, the letters jumble less often and his reading is less choppy, but he often has to backtrack and take breaks, lest he lose his concentration entirely. The first few pages are more or less empty, containing two or three brief lines of information about royal duties for the day – it gets spicier, and tougher to read, when the old Hilda starts writing whole pages for each entry. In a saddened scrawl she confesses her fears and her doubts as to the future of her kingdom, without Triforce for a reason she doesn’t explicit. He has to go and dig into the archived parchment dating three hundred years back to read the historical account of its destruction by the royal family, and the disastrous consequences thereof.

The old Hilda writes about familiar names; Yuga is a centrepiece of the story, and Ravio a side pawn, mentioned only in often agitated post scriptums. Gradually her plan becomes more fleshed out, and he discovers the old story of theft and betrayal.

Midway through the diary the old queen notes the disappearance of her young advisor with some grief, but he isn’t mentioned again until the very end – Link is greatly amused to find out that the boy had taken refuge in Hyrule, and had been the one to ask for his help in the first place. Three hundred years later the roles have switched, and Link is in Lorule knocking on Ravio’s door.

He’d been hoping to find more traces of what his predecessor had been like; he ends up quite disappointed, for the boy is mentioned only briefly and described as over-zealous and easy to manipulate. Only at the end does the old queen admit her admiration of his bravery and selflessness, and blah blah blah….

Link’s eyes pull out of focus. He forces them to lock onto the next few words again, so he can at least finish reading the story – it’s like seeing the other side of a fairy tale. The diary culminates with a long entry, essentially a confession of her sins, that finishes with a bursting thank you to the hero who’d saved two worlds at once and a warning to future generations. That’s the end of the epic, but not quite the end of the diary, and here the entries become a bearable length again, picking up four years after they left off according to the scrawled date.

The old Hilda gives, throughout the rest of the pages, regular and sombre updates on the royal family’s new project – that’s its official title, but it’s led and executed solely by her and her advisor, who’d returned to her side after the end of her schemes. She describes their work as a desperate scramble to reform a link that had been broken. What he takes from this is that Hyrule hadn’t been the only kingdom to reach out for the other : there’d been toiling on both sides of the mirror. The last entries, now years apart, tell of the old Ravio’s declining health and eventual death. _He poured his life into it,_ she writes, _and therefore couldn’t live to see it finished. It is, I believe, the ultimate tragedy._

This is the diary’s final entry. Link sets it back in its case with a sense of closure, a little more knowledge of Lorulean history and a headache. He’d walked through a portal designated to reunite the two royal families, and in a way, it had accomplished its goal. Even though it’s three hundred years late, it’s fitting.

With the feeling of having occupied his time productively, he steps out of the library and into Hilda’s office. It’s empty. When he sees how high in the sky the sun is, he realises why. The bastards are having lunch without him !

Over a plate of sandwiches, it’s decided : they’re leaving tonight.

Ravio toys with the new golden trinket he’s bought and attached to his shorter lock of hair, and assures Hilda that sooner they go, the sooner they (or at least he) return. She’s understandably reluctant to see him go so soon, but her eyes flicker and settle on Link’s face and she remembers her promise. She makes the Hylian swear that he’ll keep Ravio alive, which he’s happy to do. Then she makes Ravio swear not to die, which he does in a singsong voice.

“Mr Hero will have my back, Hildie,” he tells her. “So there’s no need to worry.”

She not so politely informs him that she will worry anyway and banishes them from the table. They both scrape back their chairs and follow her Highness’ orders which consist, right now, of getting their asses into the corridor so that she can get back to work.

“See what I mean ? Snarky,” Ravio says as they make their way down the castle’s hallway.

“ _Just shows how much she cares about you though, right ?”_

“Oh, yeah. I wouldn’t have her any other way – it wouldn’t be fun is she were quiet. I guess I feel the need to surround myself with fiery people !”

Link responds to his nudge with a slightly stronger nudge, a smile playing at his lips. He’s in a good mood : he’s gotten some sleep, a nice lunch, and he’s going home at last. Ravio mirrors his grin and bumps into him again, nudging him just a little harder.

“I see you’ve got a spring in your step ! And I’m excited to discover your homeland too.” He crosses his arms behind his back and closes his eyes – whatever he’s picturing, Link guesses it’s off the mark. “You’ve been all around mine, so you’d better give me a tour !”

“ _Well sure,”_ Link grins. “ _I have the best guide skills.”_ He smooths down his hair and points to the nearest object he can find. “ _Ah ! If you could please direct your attention to this… lamp. And how could we miss this doorway ! No – no questions until the end of the tour. I don’t even know where it leads.”_

Ravio chuckles merrily at his antics. “Where are we going next, Mr Tour Guide ?”

“ _I said no questions ! You’re an undisciplined tourist, sir. Also I don’t recognise anything around us, so it wouldn’t be going out on a limb to say that we’re at least a little lost.”_

“Oh dear !” he gasps, lifting a hand to his mouth. “What in the world will we do ?”

“ _That’s another question ! Unbelievable ! In a time of such struggle !”_

“In that case, I might have a suggestion.”

“ _What is it ?”_ he stops and struggles to bite back a laugh under Ravio’s victorious gaze. _“I mean – I would love to hear it.”_

The Lorulean runs a head, pops his head through the first doorway on their left, and gives his tour guide a thumbs up. “I say we take a break here for a while.”

Above the door, the sign proclaims : INFIRMARY. Link wipes the grin off his face and joins his companion in the doorway.

A dozen white sheets are tucked into beds lining the room’s walls. It has the biggest windows in the castle, from what Link can tell, and they’re thinly veiled by cream-coloured curtains that filter the sunlight. Its rays light up the beddings and the small nurse station on the opposite side of the room. Only the laboured breaths and exhales of its sole patient break the silence.

“ _Do you want me to le–“_ Link starts, but Ravio grabs his hand mid-sentence and drags him inside. They take quiet steps forward, headed for the faint sound of breathing. There, in the corner, is the only filled bed. They approach it.

Peaking out from under the sheets is Lurelei’s old beaten face. They’re still recognisable, and even in sleep carry a sense of personality which almost makes Link smile. Their skin is bruised yellow and green along their jaw and cheekbones, but nothing looks broken aside from their nose. It’s already been set back in place. Their mouth, hanging half open, reveals a broken tooth. Their breathing is slow and irregular, but to the young men’s relief, they’re in no critical state.

“I was expecting it to be worse,” Ravio says mildly. He makes his way around the bed and takes the seat arranged next to the bedside. “Them being under attack by Yuga’s men and all.”

“ _Hilda said they killed a few of ‘em,”_ Link signs, still looking at the shopkeeper’s battered face. “ _I bet they gave ‘em hell.”_

Ravio nods. He reaches out to touch his mentor’s face carefully. “It’s funny, they haven’t changed at all in six years. Ha ! Their hair’s longer, though. What a stubborn idiot.”

Link tilts his head, beckoning him to explain himself.

“Oh, it’s nothing serious,” he says, grinning despite himself. “When they first employed me, my hair was a short knight’s cut, and a month or two in I decided to grow it out. Theirs already reached their shoulders, and they told me I’d never catch up with them. I guess even after I left, they refused to get a haircut.”

The story seems to stir something within him, and his lips twist downward. “I really wish I could talk to them.”

“ _You will, though,”_ Link reminds him. “ _As soon as we’re done.”_

“Right,” Ravio mumbles. He takes a step back from the bed. “I’ve just missed them, you know ? I’d have liked to hear their voice.”

Link squeezes his hand and thinks of how he’d feel if it were Rine lying there so still and so silent, out of her element. It causes his head to shake on its own, eager to be rid of the idea. He hasn’t known Lurelei long enough to understand exactly how his companion feels, but he can guess.

Nonetheless Ravio wears his eternal smile, and turns to face him. “I have yet another favour to ask of you, Mr Hero.”

“ _That’s alright. You’ve been doing me a pretty big on for the last few weeks.”_

“You know, I’d almost forgotten about that !” He grins, fingers closing over the golden clasp in his hair again. “We’ve walked away from some pretty traumatic stuff, but it’s been so fun travelling with you that it slipped my mind.”

“ _It… it really has,”_ Link mouths, realising that he’s never taken the time to express it. He has good memories in Lorule that’ll stay with him all his life. “ _I don’t think I showed it very much, but I enjoyed travelling with you. So, um, thank you.”_

Ravio watches Mr Hero flush with thinly veiled pleasure and shakes his head. “Thank you as well, for finding me and guilt-tripping me into coming along,” he laughs (softly, of course ! this is a hospital bay, and he’s a reasonable young man). “I’ve greatly enjoyed your companionship, so don’t be offended ! But I wanted to know if you could manage to pack our bags on your own, just this once.”

“ _Is that your favour ? I don’t mind.”_

“Yeah… I’d like to spend a bit more time with them before we go. I read in some books that sometimes people can still hear when they’re unconscious, and I’m dying to annoy them with my rambling.”

“ _Alright, then.”_ Link gives his partner’s hand a last squeeze before letting it go. “ _You’ve got six years to talk about, so I’d better leave you to it !”_

He’s about to turn and leave when Ravio steps forward and grabs his wrist. “Hey, Mr Hero…”

“ _Yeah ?”_

“Thank you,” he says, like he couldn’t mean it more. For a moment his eyes flicker down, and Link watches him hesitate for the first time. Then he lets his wrist go and smiles. “I’ll see you later !”

“ _See you in a bit.”_

And down the corridor ahead of him, ginger braids disappear behind a corner.

By the time Ravio returns to them, the sun has begun its steady journey towards the west. It projects warm light into the throne room where Link has stacked their bags. He and Hilda sit side by side on the small step that precedes the throne, profusely avoiding each other’s eyes. He gets the idea that she wishes she hadn’t made her promise, back when they’d first met.

She’s the first to get up when the Lorulean wobbles into the room – he’s still limping noticeably, his ankle struggling with its recovery. They have so many wounds and bruises trying to fix themselves all at once that it’s no surprise. She goes to him and offers a helping arm, which he refuses with his chin raised high. He somehow manages to get himself across the room and lowers himself down on the step next to Link.

“Efficient work as always, Mr Hero !” he grins, kicking the bag closest to him. It jingles.

“ _I take pride in it. How did operation annoy the sick engineer go ?”_

“It was delightful. You know, I’m pretty sure I saw them actually cringe a few times.”

“ _Oh, really now ?”_

“I don’t like what you’re implying !”

Hilda coughs lightly, and they both cut out of their fooling around to look up at her. She’s standing right in front of them, hands on her hips, looking no happier about the situation than she had at lunch.

“Sorry to bother you, boys,” she says, “but we have a mission on our hands, do we not ?”

They nod in unison and rise (Ravio mostly clings to Link’s shoulder and lets him do the rising).

She stares at them sternly. “You’d better remember your promises to me. Both of you ! Royal grudges are the worst, I’ve heard.”

No matter how hard he tries, Link can’t tell if she’s joking or not. To play it safe, he nods.

“Hildie, come on !” Ravio whines, “If you keep repeating yourself like that, I’ll start to think you have no faith in me.”

This softens her up enough to summon a loose smirk. “Of course I have faith in you. I always have. I just wouldn’t want you dying in a stupid way, so soon after we got to meet again, and I wouldn’t exactly put that past you.”

“I’m so happy to hear you haven’t changed a bit !”

“Neither have you. Now come on – I’d like to escort you to the doorway myself, if you don’t mind.”

She doesn’t voice, but there’s something on her mind as she watches Link hoist both bags onto his back and ignore Ravio’s tugs and complaints. While the boys wrestle on for the second bag behind her, bickering not unlike an old married couple, her mind is elsewhere : her attention has been caught by a tug, an irregular wave, a bad sign. She thinks their journey to the abandoned dungeons shan’t be as straightforward as she’d have hoped.

Of course, she turns out to be right.

The small bridge connecting the collapsed stone tower to the castle’s main building is a thin one. In fact, she doesn’t understand how Newt and Joh manage to patrol across it side by side; it’s one of the feats only they know the secret to. They have to step onto it one by one, trailing forward in a line, and when she comes to a stop Ravio bumps into her back. There’s a vocal ‘humph!’ as Link bumps into them both and cranes his neck to see what’s happening at the front.

Someone is blocking the way.

The queen very much doubts they react in a way that pleases the man. Having suffered from his company for seven years, she knows exactly what he has in mind, sitting there with his legs crossed in the middle of the bridge. He’s hoping for shivers, averted eyes, or even an angry glare; in other words, he wants to arouse a strong reaction that might nourish his already overweight ego. What happens instead is rather embarrassing for him, to be honest. Hilda’s eyes roll back until only the whites can be seen, Ravio groans like a kid asked to do his chores and Link actually scoffs.

Needless to say, Yuga is a little destabilised.

The mere fact that it’s visible shows that he isn’t on his best form. Shouldn’t he have swallowed it, and spat out something vaguely eloquent ? No – his eyes widen, and they’re redder than usual. That’s saying.

“I was waiting for you,” he says, fast recovering. Thin and bandaged fingers reach up to scratch the glowing mark on his neck. “How bold of you to have let the worm back into the castle, Hilda. Who knows what could happen ?”

“I hope that by worm, you aren’t referring to the friend dearest to my heart, currently standing behind me.” Her voice is flat and calm. “He so happens to be carrying a certain sword you were so hellbent on retrieving, a few years ago.”

“ _Not that you would know how it feels to carry it,”_ Link signs from the back. “ _Since it sets you on fire whenever you touch it, and all.”_

A grimace of displeasure surfaces, making his twisted face look more unpleasant than usual. “It can’t be. How can he hold it ?”

“ _Easy. He isn’t a complete dickhead.”_

“Let’s not be so crude,” Yuga dismisses, but there’s something that resembles alarm in his eyes. A shiver courses down his back. “Come on, come on. Enough jesting, don’t you agree ? Surely, the rat isn’t worthy. You’ve found a way for him to hold the sword without injury – pass these means onto me, and I shall strive not to harm you, nor your reputation, dear queen.”

Ravio has been uncharacteristically quiet, and now he shuffles forward, pressing himself flat against the bridge’s little walls to make his way past Hilda. He doesn’t look angry, but man, it’s the closest he’ll get – there’s a crease in his forehead, and his gaze is thunderous. His fists are shaking by his side, fingers clasped tight together. He looks upon the pale and decaying face of a man he hasn’t seen in seven years, and says :

“Step aside.”

Yuga looks up into his face. His irises are small and stunned and for a moment he sits perfectly still in the young man’s shadow. His periods of shock are becoming longer, and more obvious – in other words, he’s flaking away.

“What vehemence you speak with, boy, for someone who ran for his life at the first opportunity !” Even he seems to sense that this is a low blow, a meaningless attack, and his thin lips part again to spit out some more venom, but Ravio takes another step. They seal shut.

“Step aside, Yuga,” Ravio tells him, stone-set. His eyes are fixed on a spot above his shoulder, beyond him. “Come on. You forced me to abandon everything I knew, back then. Now it’s your turn : leave. Go and wander somewhere else. There’s lots of the world to see ! I saw a lot of it when I went into hiding. I was twelve, so I didn’t learn as much from it as I’d have liked, but you seem to be at the right age !”

These words, coming out of his mouth (of all mouths !), reduce Yuga to a stammering jumble. The man’s hands grab handfuls of small braids and tug at them with insistence, perhaps expecting an answer from them; if so, it doesn’t come.

“I’ve been scared most of my life,” Ravio continues. “Feeling like prey is an exhausting feeling. For years I was terrified you’d show up on my doorstep and murder me in cold blood, or something, but what _are_ you gonna do ? What would you do if we were to step over you right now ?”

“ _No more turning people into portraits this time,”_ Link puts in, proud to be able to use his historical trivia.

“Perhaps,” Hilda says, her tone chilling, “we should do as you say, Ravio. He’s simply a nuisance, as it is.”

“Yeah, let’s. He isn’t worthy of our time.”

And limping heavily, he takes the first few steps.

Accept the unexpected, and welcome whatever is thrown your way : these are words that he’s been living by, and they’ve gotten him this far, but nothing can prepare him for the surprise he feels when Yuga’s hands tighten around his ankles. Despite the pain he has the time to gasp, and the man uses those same microseconds to start weeping warm tears onto his boots. Ravio kicks him away, scrambling out of his reach, but every time a boot collides with his fingers he crawls back closer and latches onto his leg. He nearly takes the young man down with him. Hilda hurries to his side and lends him her shoulder to lean on while Link tries to rip the weeping man off his feet. The situation is so absurd that they can do nothing more than stare at his no longer pale face.

“I can’t…!” Yuga gasps, his teeth gritting together. They produce a creaking sound that nearly causes Link to let go just to cover his ears. “You mustn’t go through…!”

“Frankly, I’d thought this kind of behaviour beneath you.” Hilda’s gaze is locked on his weeping face as though drawn by it. “What has gotten into you, Yuga…?”

“Please…” he has the nerve to ask – or so they first hear, but he repeats the word, along with a few others, while struggling in Link’s strong grip. “Pleased… she won’t be pleased !”

“ _Not our problem.”_ The Hylian’s arms are wrapped around Yuga’s torso, and give it a tug strong enough to tear him off Ravio’s feet. He pushes the man against the bridge’s short wall and grips his collar to keep him in place. “ _Are we going ?”_

“Yes, yes of course. Let’s go, Ravio.”

And Ravio goes, but he looks over his shoulder a few yards down, and whispers : “What the hell was that ?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Hilda tells him, a hand pressed against his back. “We should be safe now, so let’s hurry.”

“ _Don’t be so sure.”_ Link has caught up with them, and one of his hands rests loosely over the Master Sword’s hilt. “ _I think he –“_

His gut clenches – he swivels on the soles of his boots and grabs Yuga’s wrist, sending his dagger to clatter on the ground. It had been so close to his back it might have made a dent in his tunic. The Lorulean makes one last attempt, outstretched hands reaching for Link’s neck, but he’s kicked in the sternum hard enough to completely wind him. He crashes into the side of the bridge and stays down.

“Quick reflexes, Mr Hero !”

“ _Thanks.”_ He turns back and gives his partner a grin. “ _It was my Triforce Senses.”_

Hilda ignores them high-fiving and makes her way down the path. They fall into her pace and the trio makes their way down the coiling and slimy steps of the abandoned tower. The queen is still thinking about the desperation on her nemesis’ face, the mad glistening of his eyes staring holes into Ravio. The two idiots prattling on behind her won’t keep it in mind, and so she makes it her mission to do so instead. If she figures something out, it might come in handy.

“Like water, right ?” Ravio is saying behind her. There’s a pause – during which Link no doubt signs his response – followed by a relieved sigh. “Oh, good. I wouldn’t wanna feel like I’m being cut in two, or something.”

“ _It’ll be OK, I’ll go first.”_ And this she sees, because Link has gone ahead of her, nearly slipping down a step in the process. Ravio follows closely, flashing her a grin as he turns. They go on side by side, and she catches their shoulders brushing more than once.

“I wonder what causes the glowing !”

“ _Maybe you can figure it out. We should see it as soon as we step inside…”_

He pushes the dungeon door open and squints ahead, but there are no lights dancing on the slimy stones. They’re still slick with water, dripping moss onto the filthy floor, but their glint is almost impossible to make out. Link separates from the trio and runs up ahead, throwing frantic glances into each cell, but there’s nothing for it. His friends find him standing there, facing a dead end. Bricks are missing from the wall, revealing dirt that’s wriggling with maggots. If they squint, they might make out the shape of a doorway, but the look on Link’s face when he turns his head towards them confirms their thought :

The mirror is gone.


	18. Chapter 18

She watches Link disappear into the mirror and says :

“Smash it.”

The knight rams the hilt of his halberd into the glass and sends it shattering to the ground. The pieces drop on top of each other, making a tinkling sound that’s almost harmonious. On the wall, a discoloured oval of wallpaper stands out.

Zelda looks at it thoughtfully and lifts a hand.

Two guards emerge from the shadows of the nearest bookcase and each grab one of Ganondorf’s arms. The man is too stunned by the scene that’s unfolded to react until he feels their metal gloves seep cold into his forearms – the chilling sensation boots him back into action, and he manages to free himself, sending both Hylians flying into the wall. He steps towards the queen, a hand outstretched without a purpose.

“Why did you do that ?” he shouts at her back, for she refuses to turn to face him. She’s stepping towards the ruins of the mirror, still deep in thought. His fists curl by his side. The mark branded into his forearm is burning. “Why did you break it…?!”

Frozen, he watches the queen grind the biggest piece of glass under her heel.

“Paranoia, I expect.”

Finally she turns her head, and her piercing blue eyes confirm every doubt, every fear, even the smallest of instincts he’d had regarding her. But what bothers him most is that the glint in them, the faint and menacing spark, is one that he’s recognised. He has grown up with it in the eye of every Gerudo. It’s the look of a warrior.

She smiles, and he snarls. He’s angry at her – and how could he not be ? – but he’s most of all angry at himself. His decision, to fight or not to fight, was overdue, and she has taken advantage of him. Somewhere within him, he respects her for that; if there’s a hole in his armour, he can only blame himself when he takes a blow.

But there’s more, of course, at stake than them both. His mind races. Too many things have been smashed in the last minute : the mirror, and the queen’s mask along with it. He keeps looking at the wall again, not unfurnished and grey – is he hoping for an ally to emerge from it now ? No. Evidently, the queen’s plans are well thought-out.

“I couldn’t take the chance of him meddling with my business. Of course, he wasn’t much of a threat after all but… well, the worst strategists are the ones who’re unprepared.”

“Link…” he mutters, and suddenly wishes he’d cornered him after all. The young man’s lost to them now, in whatever hellhole rests beyond the passage. He’s been played for a fool, and now he’s stuck on the other side of that mirror on a suicide quest. Anger broils within the Gerudo, and it’s hot enough to scorch the carpet at his feet.

Zelda scoffs lightly – her guards have picked themselves off the floor and are awaiting her command. “Yes, poor Link. Don’t you worry, he would have ended up throwing himself into a mindless adventure and died from it at some point in his life. That’s their nature, just like yours is destruction. But we’re all veering off the path, aren’t we ?”

“As we stand, I expect we are.” He grins at her coolly, but his eyes are scanning the area. They’re too many floors up, but the four windows could come in handy as exits if need be. There’s only one door at the other end of the room, and he’s guessing it’s not as unguarded as when they’d stepped in. “So what are your plans ? Invasion ? Slavery ? It’s always one of those two with you Hylians.”

The head knight, Hal, has been stealthily inching towards him throughout the confrontation – Ganondorf punches him in the face before he can make his move, sending him rattling down the aisle. The two other guards draw their swords, but Zelda still doesn’t give them word.

She has the nerve to look offended by his words, if not wounded. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m doing what’s best for every habitant of Greater Hyrule ! Wars continue to wage on – were you not sent to put an end to conflicts, yourself ? Solving each one by one will take centuries, but one strike could be enough to bring peace to everyone. Hyruleans need guidance, and not from people like you.”

“From people like you, then.”

This time, she doesn’t respond. She gives her guards a nod, and both of them pounce forward once more, bearing their weapons. Ganondorf ducks under the first sword and kicks the armoured man in the stomach, picking up the blade from the floor where it lies dropped. The second guard flings himself at him and ends up embedding his sword between two floorboards. Unable to retrieve it in time, he’s bludgeoned on the back of the head by the Gerudo. Well, he’s not used to such short weapons, but he’s not doing half bad.

He has no time to congratulate himself, because a new squadron has come to offer support. Twelve armoured guards lurch at him and surround him, piling up to block all possible exits. Nearly crushed under the weight of the men and their metal plates, Ganondorf reminds himself than if Link could punch six of these guys, so can he. Thus, he gets to work.

One skids across the floor, neck at a strange angle; three others crawl away with completely unhinged jaws, drooling heavily. Poor little Hylian, he thinks, picked and tossed away within the very same week. Left to rot. And he hadn’t been half stupid, too. He punches the lights out of the guard closest to him and headbutts the next, causing an audible crack.

He actually gets to eight when they start to overpower him. The first spear stabs into his forearms, and he knows others are bound to follow. Once, he’d been taught that death in battle is the most honourable of deaths – he agrees, but he doesn’t think this is the one. When eight hands grip him, he goes limp and accepts his fate.

“Lock him up,” Zelda tells the men. “The maximum security cells in the right-hand tower will do the trick. Take Hal.”

Knight in question has risen, tears still in his eyes from his hit. He’s clutching a bleeding nose. When he walks past Ganondorf, he spits out a bloody tooth at him.

“Gerudo scum,” he says.

And on an ordinary day those would have been the man’s last words, but Ganondorf bears the humiliation and lets the guards haul him up. His forearm is bleeding and itching and they’re tying his arms around his back, but it’s alright, because he’s learned something important.

He’s learned, that :

The world, according to Zelda, is a vast playground.

The first voice she had heard at birth had not been that of her mother. It had been a sung plea or a dozen, echoing around her little skull. Such echoes were not infrequent during her childhood, and never left her completely. All said the same thing with different words and an identical brand of hopelessness which had stamped itself into her mind : _save me._

She had soon recognized that voice as her own.

Very young, she had decided that she would never say those words herself, no matter the situation. She was taught early on that it would be her role to be a saviour and a martyr, and she had listened to none of it. When people are guided by fanatic beliefs, it’s easy to lie to them. Her dedication had looked more than real – but the goddesses that supposedly guide their land never whispered a word to her, and she figured that if they were up there, they knew better than the grovelling masses.

Zelda, she had been instructed, is clever and knowledgeable in many domains. She is resourceful, dedicated, and driven. She wishes the protection and the wellbeing of all her subjects. She is a good diplomat and a better politician. But Zelda does not get to decide. When Ganon awakes once more her role is to let him rip her from her throne and wait for the Hero to slay him. Those, she had been told, are the rules. You understand that, don’t you ?

Yes, she had nodded and no, she had thought.

For how many centuries had these cycles gone on for ? No matter how many history books she flipped through, the answer remained lost. She had quickly surmised that some other kind of tactic had to be tried, to prevent the same thing from repeating itself again and again. That would do more good to Hyrule than to follow down century old paths. People need unity, not fear. People need to be led.

In other words, Hyrule needs control. And that is something that she’s naturally good at, something she has a knack for – where her predecessors had done nothing but sit back, she makes the decisions and moves the chess pieces on her own terms. Fate has handed her the title of queen, and she won’t let it go to waste. As a child she had moved coloured blocks and formed shapes and towers; now she can move entire armies to shape the world around her with no questions asked. After all, Wisdom knows best, may the Goddesses bless you.

Her first move should have been to slaughter Ganondorf, but the poor man had walked right into her castle and unknowingly saved his own life. She couldn’t get rid of him now without risking a public scandal or an early-set invasion, but now all is well. He’ll rot in their dungeons until the storm has blown over, and _then_ she’ll kill him. Just to be sure her work doesn’t fall into ruin.

Her second had been to – pardon the vulgarity – cover her ass. With the Hero’s whereabouts unknown, he could spawn at any given time and wreck mayhem. Some people, she deplores, simply can’t understand that sacrifices have to be made. But she’s gotten rid of _him_ now, and he’s stuck on the other side of that mirror for the rest of his life. Her Lorulean assets have assured her this would be very short.

With both men who might have gotten in her way, wishing like brutish imbeciles to sweep her off her feet, disposed of, she feels free for the first time in a while. It’s an invigorating feeling. She joins her ministers outside – significantly fewer in numbers than a week ago – and leads them down the corridor. There’s still much to discuss, and much to act on. In the meantime, the knights stand ready in the courtyard.

All is looking wonderfully hopeful.

Laine Anja nearly drops her wooden spoon when her daughter comes running up to her and grabs a handful of her sleeves.

“Mum,” she says, “something’s burning !”

“Link !”

Link is tugging on his hair.

No, this is inaccurate – he’s ripping it out, or trying his best to, grabbing fistfuls of blond locks and pulling hard enough for his scalp to throb. Some of it actually comes out and falls through his trembling fingers, that pause only a moment before going back to their brutal work. He barely hears the voice call his name, because he’s sinking to his knees, legs too shaky to support him. His skull feels too small to house him, and his lungs too weak to provide for him. Irises dilating, he does his best not to cry again.

In an instant familiar hands are on his back, reaching out to ground him. Ravio’s hair tickles his face when the young man crouches down beside him on the wet bricks and takes hold of his wrists. Link looks up long enough to find none of the usual comfort on his face. The Lorulean looks scared and confused, like a man who doesn’t know what’s going on around him. He pulls Link’s hands out of his hair and grasps them tightly.

“ _The doorway…”_ Link mouths, his mouth very dry. “It’s…”

“Shhh,” Ravio says gently, and takes him into his arms. This is as certain a confirmation as Link is going to get, and his nose scrunches up, beginning to run. He sniffles.

And frowning, chin hooked over Link’s shoulder, Ravio thinks.

Hilda has stepped across the room with the swiftness of royal urgency and is running her hands across the door-shaped hole in the bricks. There’s a yard of empty space, and then soggy dirt, alive with maggots and other worms. No matter how hard she pushes, the surface shows no signs of moving. She achieves nothing, other than caking her gloves in dirt – for the first time in a while, she pulls them off and throws them to the ground. With the Triforce of Power pulsating on her hand, she tries to map the hole again.

“ _I swear it was there,”_ Link signs to no one in particular, arms slung around Ravio’s neck. “ _I swear. I don’t understand why it’s…gone !”_

Forming the words with his hands sends them home harder that intended, and he cringes, screwing his eyes shut. This is too much for the slow, rusty gears in his brain. The doorway had been in that exact spot, the one Hilda is now hounding; how can it have disappeared in such a small period of time, after staying for three centuries ? And worse, what does this mean for him ? How can he get home ? How can he go back to Hyrule…?

“I can feel it,” Hilda says, kneeling beside them. Her hands are slick with mud. “There’s a trace, but it’s practically gone. I’m sorry, Link, but the passage was closed a while ago.”

“ _They closed it behind me,”_ he rasps silently, pressing his forehead into Ravio’s shoulder. His grip on the Lorulean’s shirt doesn’t loosen.

“They might have. Oh – dear, no, please don’t cry. Let’s not give in to panic just yet. We may not understand what’s going on, but we need to focus on possible solutions.”

Ravio’s hand stills on the nape of Link’s neck, and he looks up at his childhood friend. “Are there any, Hildie ? Three hundred years ago, weren’t there passages aplenty ?”

“They were closed off, you see, after the Hylian princess and knight went back home. That’s why the mirror doorway was created – to allow both parties to meet the other again. It was never completed in time for them to reunite, so Link here was the first to use it. As far as I’m aware, there are no others.”

Link picks himself off of his partner and gasps. Something has rung a bell, and sent his gears crashing into motion.

“ _The old Hilda’s diary !”_

Both Loruleans stare at him with wide eyes.

“What about it ?” they both press at once.

“ _I’m not sure, I’m not the best at reading, see, but the passage she described in her diary was a mirror as well. And she said that the old Ravio died before he could see it finished.”_

“I remember that.” Hilda looks down at her hands. “The end of that diary was a saddening read.”

“ _No, listen ! That means the mirror was eventually completed and polished, right ? But that’s not the case with the passage here ! On the Hylian side, it was a mirror, all smooth and glassy, but when I went through and looked at it, from this spot, it just looked like some sort of shiny veil between the bricks.”_

“So what you’re sayin’ is that this isn’t the passage they were working on !”

“And in other words,” Hilda finishes, “that there’s another, somewhere within the castle.”

Link’s nod is firm.

“Well then, we’d better go and look for it !”

The queen stands up, wiping her hands carelessly on her skirts, and for a moment Link sees what she was like before her title caught up with her. She gives him a smile that’s both reassuring and serious – a reminder, he guesses, that their snooping work is only starting. Ravio picks himself off the floor and offers Link a helping hand. The three of them look at each other briefly; then they make for the door.

The library is what had given them their first clue – it’s inevitably the place which will now set them on the right path. They break into a run halfway across the now empty bridge and keep going at an even pace until they reach Hilda’s office. The guards standing by step aside as she pushes her key into the lock and pushes the door open. Both boys hurry in after her, and through the next door she opens.

“Have at it !” she says, plucking the diary out of its case. It’s tossed to Ravio without much grace, all precautions forgotten. Hilda leaves the work to him and crouches in front of the nearest bookshelf, pulling out the third folder from the bottom. “We could work more meticulously and cross-reference the information in the archives and the diary, but I have a feeling the doorway was closed with a purpose, and Link might want to find a new way through urgently.”

“ _Couldn’t agree more.”_ He looks over Ravio’s shoulder at the tattered book. “ _No, don’t start on the first pages. It’s all boring up to the last third.”_

“You’re the one who read it, Mr Hero. Any mentions of, say, secret doorways, hidden staircases or the like ? Ooh, maybe one of those rotating bookshelves.”

“ _No. She never mentioned the place it was being built. I guess she wanted to leave it undisturbed. I don’t think we can get anything else from the diary, frankly.”_

From her spot on the floor, Hilda grumbles. “That might make things more complicated, since all historical accounts are purposefully vague about this cycle.”

“We’ll find something !” Ravio assures them both, flipping through the diary’s pages. “And if we don’t, we’ll just have to look everywhere. It has to be in the castle !”

Link half-smiles and waits for him to spurt more trademark optimism, but the Lorulean falls quiet. He’s running his hands down the inside of the back cover.

“ _Found something ?”_ Link asks, resting his chin on the young man’s shoulder.

“Might have.” Ravio sticks the tip of his tongue out and bites it lightly, eyebrows knitted together. “Hey, Hildie. You’re not gonna like this, but I’m pretty sure we need to cut this thing open !”

“Somehow, I knew this would be the outcome,” she sighs, but she joins them at the table and takes the book from him. She too must notice something, because her eyes go wide.

“Feel it, then ?”

“ _Feel what ?”_ Link asks.

Ravio points to the back cover that Hilda’s holding between her fingers. “This bit is really thick in one spot, like it’s got a double cover – only it doesn’t, so there must be something inside.”

“Just this once, Ravio, I shall assist you in messing up historical artefacts,” she says, and disappears into her office.

“She says that like she didn’t help me glue a really expensive vase back together when we were kids.”

“I can hear you !”

“How could you have ?” he calls, winking at Link. “I wasn’t even sayin’ anything !”

She rolls her eyes at him on her way back to the table; she’s holding a thin and pretty pair of twin-bladed scissors. She looks at Ravio, then at Link, and unconvinced either by their numerous injuries or the excited look on both their faces, decides she’ll do the honours herself.

“Hold it still, please. I’d like to do as little damage as possible.”

Both boys lean over the table and press the covers firmly against the table; Hilda’s scissors glide without a hitch through the back cover. She pulls back the inner binding, and a thin slip of parchment slips out. Link catches it before it can fly off the table.

He looks at it for a long moment.

“So ?” Hilda presses.

He looks at her and sighs. “ _It’ll take half an hour for me to figure out all the words. Can someone else read it ?”_

“Sure,” Ravio nods, and nicks it out of his grasp. “Lemme see. ‘To the future generations claiming ownership of this diary, I entrust my secrets to you. The mistakes of my past…’ Oh, hold on, she goes on for a while about those. Shall I skip over it ?”

Link and Hilda, who’ve heard it a dozen times by now, nod.

“Right. Sins, treason – ah ! Here we go. ‘The day I depart from this world draws near, and I cannot leave our life’s work unprotected. I owe it to him, after all.’ Assuming she’s talking about a previous Ravio, here. And then, uh… There’s the tasty bit ! ‘I have hidden it in the royal suite, closest to where I spend the last of my days.’ There it is, Hildie : royal suite !”

But Hilda stares at him with unusual confusion. “Are you sure ?”

“Yep.” He waves the piece of paper between his fingers. “Says right here. You can check if you’d like.”

“No, that’s alright. I’m just rather surprised – I grew up in the royal suite, and still sleep there on most nights, yet I haven’t caught a glimpse of it over the years. Hang onto that paper, will you ? It’ll come in useful.”

Ravio nods and tucks it away into his pocket; thus, they depart, leaving the diary to lie there on the table. It has, after all, served its purpose at last.

“ _Are you sure it’s alright ?”_

Now Link isn’t religious. He isn’t attached to royalty, nor any social codes that exceed basic conversation. But he’s a farmer boy at heart, and there’s something disturbing about stepping into the queen’s bedrooms. It bothers him, just a little.

It, however, doesn’t bother her in the slightest. “For goodness’ sake, Link, get in here !”

So, skin prickling, he gets in here.

It’s far simpler than he might have imagined, but it’s clear this is Hilda’s doing – there are discoloured patches on the walls where expensive portraits used to hand, and other empty spots that previously housed artefacts of great value. She has stripped back anything that gets in her way, and while the room is beautiful, wrapped in purple satin curtains and sheets, it’s also vastly empty. There’s a table, very close to the poster bed, that’s covered with parchment. He doesn’t have the time to investigate, but he thinks that they’re handmade ink portraits. Hilda walks past them with flushed cheeks and doesn’t comment.

“I like what you did to the place,” Ravio says, and lacking the discomfort that keeps Link tense and still, sits down on the bed.

“I like to think it’s rather cosy,” she smiles. “But right now, it’s our investigation scene. Does the note give any details or insights as to where the mirror is hidden ?”

He scans over the note again. “Nope. Nothin’ else. But the room isn’t that big, right ? Let’s try and find a secret trap door or something.”

Ravio hops off the bed and starts examining the space under it, running his hands across the floor in search of a catch. Hilda and Link go in different directions – while she checks the walls near the door, he tries to push the wooden wardrobe out of the way. It scrapes as it moves, leaving black traces on the ceiling. He gets it halfway off the wall and manages to push a hand in the new space, feeling the wallpaper for some sort of door-shape. There’s nothing. He drags it back into place again.

“Nothing under the bed.”

“Nor around these walls.”

“ _This one’s clear too.”_

They turn to another section of the room and repeat the process. The suite is spacious, but in this moment it feels very small around them. They soon bump into each other in their search and are forced to change areas a few times. Nothing in the space under the windows, nor behind the heavy curtain resting against the nearby wall. There’s nothing under the carpet, either, and no furniture that they move reveals anything more than dust.

This leaves only one area unsearched – the eastern wall of the room, which from the ground to the ceiling is covered by an enormous towering bookshelf. They haven’t examined it yet because it’s wildly unexaminable : it’s a mess of dusty glass panes, books threatening to tumble at any given moment, and worse, it’s utterly and completely stuck to the wall. Link wouldn’t be surprised if it _were_ the wall, seeing how thick it looks. All three of them stand before it with similar expressions.

“I don’t suppose there’s anywhere else we haven’t looked,” Hilda sighs.

The boys shake their heads. She shrugs in agreement and reaches out to touch the wooden surface.

“This has been in my family for at least five cycles,” she tells them, running the tips of her fingers over the splinters. “It contains books of utmost importance to the royal family and its history – they’re so important, in fact, that I was expressly forbidden to open it. Not that I could, because it’s locked and the key has been lost.” There’s a hint of amusement in her tone.

“ _So what are we gonna do ?”_ Link asks her.

He’s not entirely surprised when she grins, and says : “Destroy it, of course.”

This says a lot about how she must have been before she was crowned, and the look on Ravio’s face confirms it – those two must have been a frightening duo as children, and he’s kind of glad he’s only meeting them now.

“We could simply go and fetch something heavy, and smash it that way, but efficiency is our prime interest right now, so I’ll… I’ll use the Triforce. Will you please step aside ?”

“ _Use the Triforce ?”_ Link repeats. He looks over at Ravio, but finds no answers on his face. The Lorulean shrugs.

Hilda is grinning again, an expression that suits her well. “The Triforce of Power doesn’t hold a reputation of chaos and destruction for nothing ! It gives its holder impressive force. Of course, I’m not supposed to use it, but once in a while…”

Her palm flattens against the wood, and for a moment it seems to glow. She presses down, and the surface starts to splinter. A sharp noise, rushing winds, erupts from it, and both of her friends are thrown back by the force of it – there’s a bang, and when they look up again the bookshelf has been torn neatly in two in the middle. Hilda, picking splinters out of her hair, looks absolutely delighted.

“Somehow,” Ravio says, picking himself off the floor, “that was scary as hell.”

Link, still wide-eyed from the experience, agrees.

They step over the broken glass and books strewn across the floor, and join Hilda in the midst of what’s left of the bookshelf. She’s brushing away pieces of wood and cobwebs alike. The wall starts to regain its original colour and a rectangular shape roughly the height of a man appears. Link kicks it and it falls through.

“Ominous dark room ahead,” Ravio shivers, and walks straight into it.

Hilda lets Link follow him first, and comes in last with a small lit candle that gives them a better idea of just where they are. The room is freezing, for it has no visible isolation – the walls are bricked up loosely, and he can practically feel wind blow through them when he touches them. Its ceiling is low, giving it a cubic shape; three of its faces are blank. The last is furnished with frostbitten glass.

Link walks up to it and brushes his fingers against the surface, worried he’ll find solid frost under them, but they go right through. Like water, he smiles, and lets relief wash over him for the first time since his panic attack. The mirror is identical to the Hylian one, and it’s functional. It’s his doorway back home.

He turns to announce the good news, but Hilda and Ravio are no longer behind him. He finds them crouching to the left of the mirror in front of a small, oval shaped stone standing straight out of the ground. If he had to give it a name, he’s say tombstone.

“ _What’s that ?”_

Ravio gives him a brief glance, motioning downward. “Come see for yourself, Mr Hero.”

He sits on his heels and leans forward to have a better look at it. There are words carved smoothly into the surface. Most of it has been eaten away by moisture and mould, but one word remains readable dead in its centre : _RAVIO._

Link shudders.

“Do you think he’s actually buried here…?” the Lorulean asks. He’s moved away from the length of the tombstone, more comfortable sitting a few feet away.

Hilda gives a half-nod. “It’s possible. The diary did mention that he considered the mirror his life’s work…”

“ _It said he’d poured his life into it,”_ Link recalls. “ _It must have been so important to him that they left him near it after he died.”_

“That sounds really sad…” Ravio stands up, brushing moss and dust off his knees. His gaze carefully avoids the little grave. “He never got to go through it, even after dying at work.”

“ _It was the same for the old Link. He died before the passage could be finished – that’s some pretty rotten luck.”_

“Well, that’s OK.” The Lorulean steps across the small room and touches the mirror’s cold surface. “Even if they never met again, we did it in their place, Mr Hero ! And now we’re putting their efforts to use. So maybe it wasn’t such bad luck after all !”

“ _Hm… I guess so.”_

Hilda, who watches them link hands from a few steps away, agrees.

Link turns his head back towards her, eyes shining with renewed hope and mouth tugging upwards, asking for permission; Ravio steps away from him and extends his arms out to her. She accepts and returns his hug with both fear of losing them and absolute confidence that they _will_ make it through. She lets him go only when he starts to squirm, and with misty eyes. His don’t look so dry either.

“Don’t worry, Hildie,” he tells her for the hundredth time. “I’ll be back before you know it !”

“You’d better. Don’t keep me waiting again.”

“ _I’ll make sure he’s back before it gets dark,”_ Link jokes.

She takes both his hands into hers and squeezes warmly. “Look after yourself as well, Link. You’ve done Lorule yet another unrepayable service.”

Flustered, he shakes his head. “ _I’ll try my best to keep both of us alive !”_

“That’s good to hear,” she smiles. “Now, you boys had better hurry up !”

Ravio gives her one last little wave with the hand that isn’t already gripping Link’s before turning away. It takes all her strength not to hold him back.

“Like water, right ?”

“ _You’ll see !”_

And with that, they vanish into the mirror and she’s left all alone.

The only thing that keeps Ravio from making an unceremonious entrance into Hylian territory is Link’s grip on his hand. He trips up, nearly falls – much like Link had, when he’d first gone through – and is caught by his companion before his knees hit the floor.

“Hey, it _was_ like water !” he grins, wrapping his arms around Link’s chest for support. His legs are still shaking.

“ _Told you so.”_ The Hylian lifts his head and gives their surroundings a sweeping look. “ _Huh ! We’re outside !”_

Indeed, they’re not standing in a corridor within the caste as he’d expected, but in a small clearing at the edge of a field. The wall they’ve just emerged from is a part of the castle’s ramparts, overgrown with enough weeds and ivy to look abandoned. The light of the passage is barely visible under all the greenery. Ravio blows a leaf off Link’s shoulder.

“Hello, Hyrule !” he smiles. The rustle of nearby branches seems to greet him back. “It’s so similar to back home that it’s hard to believe we’ve travelled at all !”

“ _They look the same, don’t they ? But it’s… it’s good to be home.”_

And he does look like he’s breathing it all in at once, eyes shut and features relaxed for the first time in days. There’s a gentle tug making great efforts at the corners of his lips, which fully succeeds in making him smile – the smell, the sounds, the feeling of dirt under his boots, everything is familiar again. No matter how close Lorule is, there’s truly nowhere like home.

But the clang of nearby metal breaks him out of his contemplation.

Ravio is quicker than he is, and pulls him in the bushes just in time to hide from an incoming patrol. A squadron of twelve knights walk past them, stamping their feet on the ground to a military beat. They’re all carrying two sword and have a halberd slung over their shoulders – Hyrule security is an important matter, but this comes off as a little excessive. Link spits out a twig and squints at their receding backs.

“ _My Triforce senses are tellin’ me there’s something not quite right about that.”_

“Personally, this one’s on my common sense,” Ravio comments, picking himself out of the dirt. “Is your kingdom on military standby or something ?”

“ _Not when I left. Everything was fine ! But then again, they made sure I couldn’t come back, so I don’t think I’m the right person to ask about what the hell is going on.”_

Both of them emerge from the bushes, looking significantly dirtier than a few minutes prior. A quick examination of their surroundings confirms that they’re quite alone, and they relax again.

“Theories on that, by the way ? Any vague ideas ? I get the feeling we’re stepping into the shadow of something really big and potentially dangerous, here.” Ravio starts picking dirt out from under his nails, giving Link quick glances every so often as he speaks. “First they send you off to an unknown kingdom, and _then_ they try and trap you there. Sounds a lot like they –”

“ _Wanted to get rid of me ?”_ he hasards. “ _Yeah, it does. But why wouldn’t they want me there, if there’s some kind of war going on ?”_

“Well, Mr Hero,” Ravio says, looking up at him properly now. “Don’t you think it’s because you wouldn’t have fought on their side ?”

And to this, Link finds nothing to answer.

“Anyway,” the Lorulean continues smoothly, apparently unaware of the weight of his words, “We’d better get our wits together as fast as possible, especially if something dodgy is going on in the castle. What’s our next move ?”

“ _Our next move…”_ Link finds himself staring at the tips of his boots. They’re sullied with mud and blood alike, and starting to wear out. Soon he’ll find himself with holes in them. “ _I don’t know. The original plan was to hurry to the castle and get our duties over with, so that both of us could go home. But clearly they don’t want me back, so I doubt they’d be happy to see both of us on their doorstep.”_

Ravio hums his agreement. He’s tilted his head upwards and is staring at the towering structure that is Hyrule Castle – from where they’re standing, it almost looks like a thorn. “Do you think Zelda has something to do with it ?”

“ _Well, she did threaten to burn down my –“_ Link starts, but his hands fall to his side halfway. He’s been begged, threatened and bribed alike; Zelda has done everything in her power to make him go through that mirror. She wanted him out of the way, and he doesn’t want to think about what’s happened to Ganondorf in the past few weeks. More importantly, he doesn’t want to imagine what state his home is in, as of now. “ _My village.”_

He stares at Ravio, and Ravio stares back. Link’s gut clenches so violently that he doubles over and sinks to his knees, clutching his middle.

“ _I have to go back home,”_ he mouths. “ _I have to check on my village. It’s probably already gone !”_

“How far away is it ?” Ravio asks, helping him back to his feet.

“ _A week.”_ Those two words sink into his mind; they don’t have that kind of time to spare.

“On foot ?”

“ _On horseback,”_ Link groans, rubbing his forehead with a distracted hand. His skull is pulsating under his skin.

To his surprise, Ravio just nods. He’s got that semi-absent look on his face, the one he gets when he’s pondering something. “So we agree on this point : there’s weird business going on in the castle, which is under a potential murderer’s command. Correct ?”

Link nods back.

“OK. Now here’s my take on this.” He tucks a loose strand of purple hair behind his ear. “The queen’s been filtering out her political opponents – ie. anyone susceptible of standing in the way of her decisions. She got rid of the two other Triforce holders, by exiling you and by jailing your pal Ganon.”

“ _Best case scenario,”_ Link sighs.

“Right, but the point is she has to be planning something pretty goddamn awful for all that to be worth the effort. When you told me there was no actual threat in Hyrule, Mr Hero, you were misinformed. She’s our threat.”

“ _She’s our threat,”_ he repeats silently. He’s having trouble keeping up.

Ravio can tell, and he steps closer to him to rest his ever-comforting hand on his shoulder. “Hey, Link ! Your quest to find me and all that business wasn’t all for nothing – it was for this. So now, you have to make up your mind. I’ll go with whichever decision you make. What do you wanna do ?”

Link’s hand stills on his forehead. “ _What do you mean ?”_

“I mean,” he says, “that the choice you weren’t given at the start is being given to you now ! You’re back home, and you’re alive, and your responsibilities towards her Highness are pretty much over. It’s up to you to choose what to do next. Do you wanna go back home ? Or do you wanna see what we can do about that looming threat ?”

“ _You’re being uncharacteristically neutral.”_

Ravio laughs. “You’re right. Lemme try again : are we running away or throwing ourselves into the fire ?”

Link looks at him for a moment – at the smile that he’s now sporting again, the one that looks so at home on his face; at the sunlight shining right into his eyes, making his pupils dilate (and causing him to ungracefully squint a few times); at the shorter strand of hair on the left side of his face. Somehow, Ravio is grounded, and he’s grounding Link too.

“ _What would you do, if this were Lorule ?”_

“Excellent question ! I don’t know,” Ravio grins. “But you know what – we’ve both done our shares of hiding. And we’ve been trying out the whole adventuring thingy, in the last few days, and I’ve had a pretty good time. So…”

“ _We’ll have to make sure not to break our promises to Hilda,”_ Link reminds him, but his grin is fast spreading.

“Oh, yeah. She’ll kick our corpses, otherwise.”

“ _Unpleasant mental image, that.”_

They both smile at each other, and lean in just a little closer.

“Individually, we’d probably die within five minutes, but together we might be able to make it to ten !”

“ _Don’t underestimate us. Make that eleven.”_

Ravio snickers, and Link feels something warm soothe his worries. What it is, he doesn’t know – be it thrill, sheer terror or newfound purpose, it doesn’t matter. They might die – they’ll _probably_ die, but they’ll die trying to do something about it. Reminded of his burst of life in the forest, back pressed against the tree and daggers at his throat, he thinks that it’s undeniably the way he wants to go.

“I can tell I’ve got you convinced !” Ravio cheers.

“ _I can never resist you, can I ?”_ Link sighs, ignoring the sudden blood rush in his head.

“It’s true that I’m irresistible ! Hey, hey ! Don’t kick me, Mr Hero !”

Mr Hero agrees no longer to kick him, and both of them look along the length of the wall hiding them from sight. At the very end, a golden gate gleams.

“ _I remember where the guards usually stand, so I’ll go first, just to have a look. Then we can plan things, depending on how many guys we’ll have to punch.”_

“Sounds good !” he nods. “I’ll wait right here for you, so you can fill me in on all the Hyrule Castle secrets !”

Thus Link is ready to start down the path, but the Lorulean’s eyes are still on him, unmoving. He tilts his head.

“ _Everything OK ?”_

Ravio’s gaze flickers. “Absolutely ! Ah, before you go ! – I know you’re only popping around the corner, but I’d like to give you something for luck. We never know !”

Link softens. “ _OK, then. Is it one of those woven charms ?”_

“You’ll see ! Just close your eyes and hold out a hand !”

The Hylian does as he’s told, holding his palm towards the sky. He waits for fabric to scrape against his skin, but feels soft wool brush over the tip of his fingers instead; his hand remains empty, but lips press gently against his cheek instead. They’re warm and send shivers down the nape of his neck – and then they’re gone, and so is the wool, and Link finds the sense within him to open his eyes. Ravio is gone.

“I’ll be waiting, Mr Hero,” comes his voice from around the corner. It’s trembling pleasantly.

Link doesn’t go looking for him. Instead he starts down the path towards the gates, wearing the most self-satisfied grin imaginable. There’s work ahead, and fear to be felt, but in the meantime he brushes his fingers against his tingling cheek and laughs.


	19. Chapter 19

To avoid overthinking, Ravio is counting leaves.

It’s one of the most boring activities he’s ever given his full focus, and when he gets to leaf number 358 his eyes start to slip out of focus, but at least it’s keeping his mind occupied, which his current task fails to do. Watching over the passage and their bushy hideout is good and all, but not a single patrol has come by since the last. It’s been a good hour. He just hopes it isn’t a sign that Link’s in trouble.

Speaking of which, what’s taking him so long ? The Lorulean’s definition of a quick look is five minutes at most – sixty is _really_ pushing it. He sits himself down besides the glowing foliage and crosses his legs in the grass, watching the sun inch higher into the sky. Today is cloudy and dry. He misses Lorule’s spring already ! Link’s kingdom has its own blooming flowers, but none are quite as bright, nor quite as wild, as Lorule’s.

He shifts to rest his aching back against the moss-covered bricks and sighs. It’s been a long day of running down corridors, and his poor ankles aren’t exactly happy about it. His wrists are equally bruised, botched with bright purple and yellow lines. Now that he’s sitting down alone for the first time in a few weeks, the adrenaline is dropping, and so are his eyelids. Adventure is wonderful, oh yes it is, but napping has its attractive traits.

Woah, that tree sure looks like a person, he thinks, focusing very hard to stop his eyesight from blurring. Either that, or I’m tripping on meds. No, no, wait, that tree is definitely _moving !_ He squints and leans forward, ignoring his body’s protests, and watches a small figure emerge from the shadows. It’s a little girl, and each of her steps is shakier that the previous – briefly he wonders if she’ll collapse before realising he can very much prevent that. He hops onto his feet and rushes to her side.

Now that he’s closer, he can make out what had looked like dark spots from a distance – her arms and legs are covered in soot and dirt alike. Her nails are a filthy black, and her ginger hair is a mess of knots and charred patches. She lifts a freckled face towards him and cringes back, nearly falling backwards in the process. He manages to catch her before she hits the ground and helps her sit down.

“Thanks, mister,” she mumbles. Her voice is hoarse.

“Hi,” he says. “Are you OK ?”

She looks taken aback at the sound of his voice, and takes a moment to give him a good, long stare. Finally, she frowns and tells him :

“You look exactly like my friend Link.”

This makes Ravio stare at her in return, because what are the chances ? But she looks just the way he’d heard her described, albeit a little dirtier. It has to be her.

“Well, you look exactly like my friend Link’s friend Rine,” he tells her.

Her eyes light up brightly, and her pouting lips pull up into a grin. “You know Link !” she exclaims, leaning forward enthusiastically. All traces of tiredness have disappeared from her face. “I’m Rine. It’s a pleasure to meet you !”

“Pleasure’s mine,” he laughs, shaking her little hand. “I’m Ravio !”

It’s amusing, because he can see at once every strait that Link has described – the little girl is clearly exhausted, but she’s absolutely shining with curiosity now. Her eyes, a clever gold, are dead set on his face. She’s got a half-smile on that reminds him of Link’s in a very cute way.

“Has Link been with you this past month ?”

“For the most part, yes ! We’ve been travellin’, see.” He scratches the back of his neck under the girl’s attentive gaze. She looks like she’s about to start taking notes, despite her shaking and blackened hands. “Say, how’d you feel about trading ?”

She lifts a cheeky eyebrow. “Depends what we’re trading ! I don’t have much. Guess I could offer you some forest dust in exchange for that scarf.”

He guesses the forest dust is the black stuff all over her forearms; underneath the powder, her skin is covered with goosebumps. “Tell you what, kid – you can have it for free, for now. But you’re only borrowin’ it, understand ? I want that scarf back in perfect condition.”

She giggles and lets him wrap it around his shoulders. “I promise.”

“Now for that trade ! Here’s my offer : you tell me about what happened to you and I’ll tell you about Link. Deal ?”

“Deal,” she says without a moment’s hesitation. She snuggles further into the scarf, burrowing her face into the wool. “If you’re a friend of Link’s, I trust you. What do you want to know ?”

“Why you’re covered in soot, for one. Link was worried something might have happened back home – was he right ?”

The little girl’s face darkens and disappears behind a few more inches of scarf. “Yes. He told me, in a letter, to be careful and watch out for everyone while he was away. I thought he was just being Link, and playing adventuring like usual, but I did it anyway, just to keep busy. It’s a good job, because maybe a week after he sent his letter, there was a fire.”

So she did it, Ravio thinks. He puts all his strength into hiding his shock. She actually did it, even though he cooperated.

“Looks like you knew about it already,” Rine remarks.

He shakes his head. “You’re clever ! We – I mean, me and Link – we suspected. Are you OK with telling me more about it ?”

“Sure,” she shrugs. “I told my mum and all the hunters and we tried to put it out, but it spread really fast. We had to run away from the village instead. I guess everything burned down, even my books and Link’s house. I hope the sheep are OK.”

“I think Link won’t care, as long as you’re alive,” he tells her honestly.

“I know, but I still feel bad. I’d promised to look after everything.” She stares at her dirty knees. “While we were running away, I lost the rest of the group and kept running alone. I heard hooves and armour and I shouted for help, but I guess the knight didn’t hear me.” She snorts. “Either that, or he left me there on purpose. Forest fires don’t start themselves, you know ? So I kind of kept going, and in the end I got here. Pretty lucky ! I was hoping I’d reach Castle Town, so I could find Link. And I found you instead !”

“Yeah, that is pretty lucky !” he smiles, and it is. If a guard had happened upon her and recognized her, she wouldn’t have made it any further. “You’re really brave, though ! You’ve been on your own this whole time ?”

“Yeah,” she says like it’s nothing. “And I’m really, really hungry !”

Hah, he thinks, digging into their bags for an apple. It’s a family thing.

There’s a distinct possibility that Link had been somewhat exaggerating his skills when he assured his partner that he knew his way around the castle. By the second, it’s becoming less of a possibility and more of a fact, something that’s beginning to worry him a little – the gleaming gates they’d seen along the wall had only led to a small and empty alley which looked like it was connected to some sort of waste disposal system. It all makes Link feel very savant, but he’s just going by the smell.

He doesn’t want the trip to be a waste of time, however, and so he pushes on and goes further around the wall. Other than more bricks and a handful of dark corners, he hasn’t seen much of interest.

That is, until the bricks stop abruptly and are replaced with golden bars.

He flattens himself against the wall and pokes his head out to peek between the gates. A circular plaza nearly the same size as the whole of Rowmore sits paved with careful mosaics. The Triforce is stamped into the centre of each motif. From his spot, he can see three sets of five guards, standing in front of three different entrances. For once, the main gates are completely locked. There’s quite the ruckus coming from their direction, but there are too many trees in his way for him to tell what’s happening. A woman howls out of sight, and one of the guards steps forward to push her back. Link leans to the left just in time to see her fall into a small crowd of Hylians, huddled on the castle’s doorstep. A few of them are already wearing bright bruises.

So the castle’s in lockdown, huh ? he thinks, shifting back into the shadows. That’s not the most reassuring of news. Between half of the army patrolling the streets and the other half keeping citizens out, their break-in isn’t looking too promising so far. The government has barricaded itself in, and even he’s read enough history books to know that’s never a good sign.

“Shut up !” one of the guards shouts, and Link nearly jumps out of his skin. The voice is so close and so clear that they could have been standing back to back. Cautiously he turns and peeks into the courtyard.

No – he hasn’t been spotted. The guard is crouching down in front of a small hole in the nearest wall, throwing small rocks into it as he grumbles. The hole, Link notices, is barred.

He doesn’t understand the response the guard receives, but by its tone, he’s guessing something along the lines of “go fuck yourself,” only the sentence just keeps going. The guard’s mother and father and uncle and cousins must be going under the wheel as well. Amused, he listens a little closer to the growling voice’s intonation and guesses something else.

On his side of the wall, a hole identical to the first has been carved, and he wastes no time in forcing the biggest rock he can find in between the bars. It crashes into gravel below and cuts off the voice’s rambling. He crouches down to the hole’s level.

“You !” the same voice exclaims, and it’s now accompanied by a face. Link’s eyes lock with Ganondorf’s and they both grin at once.

“ _I thought you were dead !”_

“No, _I_ thought you were dead !” he retorts, laughing frankly. “I saw them break the mirror you walked through. For a tiny Hylian, you’re quite resourceful, are you not ?”

“ _And for such a fierce Gerudo, you’re in quite the tight spot !”_

“Tell me about it.”

Link’s shoulder itches again, but he ignores it. The relief of seeing an old friend’s face washes the sensation away.

“ _What’s been happening ?”_ he asks, leaning in until his forehead touches the wall. “ _How come you’re alive, by the way ?”_

“I could ask you the same thing, but I’ll go first.” He rubs his forearm, and without all the jewellery Link finds him more untamed. “I’m alive, my friend, solely due to _diplomacy._ What a wonderful thing, when it works in your favour. Killing me would cause a public outburst, which her Lowness very much wants to avoid while she does all her scheming. Thus, I live.”

“ _Schemin’ ?”_ Link repeats. “ _That why the castle’s laying its own siege ?”_

“No doubt about it. I’d love to give you more juicy details, but I’ve been locked in here for say, nearly a month, and strangely enough they haven’t been informing me of the situation. Can’t imagine why.”

“ _A month in there ? If I’m lucky, you’d have shrunk.”_

“I wouldn’t be surprised. Perhaps I can simply slip through the bars, if you’re too occupied to break me out.”

“ _I’ll just add it to my to do list.”_

Ganondorf tilts his head beneath him, and his eyebrows knit together. “Say, what happened to your face ?”

Link’s hand instinctively runs over the scarring on his cheek. “ _I’ve got one hell of a story to tell you,”_ he grins, “ _but I’ll try to keep it short-ish. Once through that mirror I did exactly what Zelda asked : I kind of got my face ripped up in the process, but I found the hero guy and brought him back. Your ‘team breakout’ is now composed of two of us. You’re extraordinarily lucky.”_

This leaves him unimpressed. “How did you go back through ?” he asks. “I saw pieces of that mirror break with my own two eyes.”

“ _Turns out Lorule has a mirror of its own, and it dropped us right ‘round the corner. Speakin’ of which, I should go back soon so we can come up with some sort of plan – although I can’t guess what sort, ‘cos this place is guarded like a fortress.”_

“Who’re you speakin’ to in there ?” the guard barks. Both young men flinch.

“Myself !” Ganondorf calls. “Who else ? I’ve got to find _something_ to do with myself in here, or I’ll go mad !”

“You’re already mad,” the guard responds in a quiet voice. He almost sounds reflective. “Or else you wouldn’t be in here.”

“Ah, of course, that makes sense,” the Gerudo agrees derisively, and hushes his tone to address Link again. “If it’s any help, these guys are poor soldiers, and there’s a hole in the guard loop when the sun starts going down. I have no idea what time that might be, nor is it an occurrence every evening, but it might be worth something.”

“ _At sunset,”_ Link signs back. “ _I’ll keep that in mind. We’ll come back around that time, so stay alert !”_

“I’ll be waiting. There isn’t much else to do in here, believe it or not.”

Link nods and leans away from the hole. His neck is starting to ache.

“Hey, hold on.”

With a groan, he leans back in again, massaging the back of his head. “ _Huh ?”_

“Good job making it back through. We’ll go further yet.”

They pause to look at each other, look properly – so closely that he can see the dirt smeared on the Gerudo’s face, and the knots in his hair and the spider webs weaved through the troubled strands, and Ganondorf can see the deep cut in his ear and the blood still clinging to the clawing down his cheek and a new thinness in his face. They look for a moment, and when they’re done looking, both withdraw on their opposite sides.

“Sunset !” he calls one last time from the shadows of his cell. Link can’t quite tell, but it’s possible he’s smiling. “Don’t leave me here to rot !”

“ _Worry not,”_ he replies with rare lyricism, and with those last words steps away from the hole. To his left, the belligerent group of Hylians are still screaming at the gates, and he wonders who’s at fault for it all – them, who poured their trust and belief into religion to the point of fanatism, or the state for building the roads that got them there ?

It’s insane what can change in one month, he thinks, dragging his feet on the way back. Things are only going to get more unpredictable from here on, aren’t they ?

And he’s right.

“You have lovely hair, Ravio ! I always have to untangle dreadlocks out of Link’s, but yours is soft !”

“Why, thank you !” he smiles, tilting his head back a little further. He’s let his hair out of its tie, and Rine’s fingers have wasted no time in delving in – from what he can tell, she’s braiding small locks of it. She works with practiced agility and pleasant chatter, and he can finally catch a glimpse of what a typical day in Link’s life might be like.

“Maybe if we team up on him,” she says, “we can talk him into washing it more often.”

“We’ll try as soon as he gets back, then !”

The little girl giggles easily and works on parting a new strand of his hair into three. She’s been cheerful and bright so far, but he can tell that she needs this moment of calm and company to collect herself. He doesn’t wince when she tugs a little too hard.

He feels her hands still in his hair mid-braid, and untangle themselves entirely – he lifts his head to look her way, and ask her what’s wrong, but sees it himself before he gets the chance to speak. A figure is approaching their spot, walking in the wall’s short shadows. It doesn’t clink nor clang, and it’s a familiar shape; relaxing, Ravio stands up to meet his friend.

It’s a futile action, because he’s promptly knocked backwards when Rine pounces up, pushing him out of the way to rush into Link’s arms with a happy cry of his name. She tackles his legs and nearly sends him to the ground as well, all wide blue eyes and incredulous grin, and it takes him a full ten seconds to crouch down to pick her up and hug her tight. Her hands clasp onto his cloak. She throws a leg over his arm, a gesture he apparently recognizes, because he leans forward and lets her climb onto his shoulders. There she settles, face half-buried in Link’s ruffled hair, looking like a very happy wildcat.

“Link !” she cheers, kicking her legs. “I’ve missed you !”

“ _So have I,”_ he mouths, lips hardly moving – he’s just grinning too hard, and Ravio sees a layer of worry wash off his face in an instant. He looks soothed. His fingers tap a merry tune on Rine’s ankles. “ _Where did you find her ?”_

“She wandered out of the forest,” he reports. “I’ll bet she can explain it better than I can, though.”

“Sure I can !” the little girl chirps, tugging on a strand of Link’s hair to yank his hair back. “Ask me instead !”

The Hylian rolls his eyes. “ _Where did Ravio find you, tiger ?”_

“I wandered out of the forest !”

“ _I thought you could explain it better than that !”_

“I can, I can,” she assures him and pats his hair. “It’s bad news, though. I’m really sorry, because you told me to watch out for anything weird, but I wasn’t quick enough…” She pauses a moment, looking intensely at the crown of Link’s head. “How did you know our home was gonna burn down, Link ?”

Link looks up at Ravio, and while his gaze is questioning, it’s filled to the brim with sorrow. His newfound smile slips off his face completely. His fingers keep brushing ash off Rine’s ankles, a gesture not completely unconscious, and while he looks terribly sad, he does not show a single sign of surprise.

“ _Home burned down ?”_ he repeats, like it’s new information, like it’s not the confirmation of his worst fears – and when Rine kicks him, the crease on his forehead only grows steeper.

“Don’t be dumb,” she admonishes him. “I can tell. You wrote to me warning me about it, didn’t you ? Therefore, you knew it was gonna happen.”

‘Therefore’ is quite the big word for a kid her size, and hearing it tugs at Link’s lips a little. “ _From the way you’re talking, I’d be surprised if you didn’t already know.”_

“Of course I already know. I just want to hear you say it : it’s the Queen, right ?”

Link’s eyes glance his way, and Ravio takes it as his cue to nod. The little girl nods back, and she frowns, and her chin trembles just a little, and she bites her lip very hard all at once, like a clamp.

“Why ?”

“We don’t know yet.

“ _And it doesn’t matter yet,”_ Link cuts it. “ _What does is that you’re alive and OK. Where’s everyone else ? Laine, and your dad, and the elders ?”_

Resting her little hands on top of his head, she lowers her chin onto them and gives her nose a twitch – both boys can guess the ghost of a sniffle. “I’m not sure. We got separated when we ran away. The plan was to gather in the nearest village and ask them for shelter. I’m not sure, but I think mum said Shellset village.”

“ _So everyone is safe ?”_ he presses.

“Except your sheep. I hope they escaped.”

This pulls a laugh out of Link, whose shoulders jiggle up and down with the vibration and bounce Rine up and down a few inches. “ _I bet the sheep are fine.”_

“Where’s Shellset?” Ravio asks them. “Sounds like it’s a seaside village, doesn’t it ?”

Link shakes his head. “ _It’s called that because the river washes up shells on the village shores, but it’s just short of the forest. Never been there myself, but it’s probably a few days walk.”_

“Oh,” Rine groans, digging her heels into Link’s shoulders. “I can already see where this is going. I’m not going ! I only just found Link !”

“ _Don’t be ridiculous ! You’ve been through enough with home going up in flames. There’s no way we’re taking you along into more danger !”_

“What, you think I can’t handle it ?”

“ _Rine, you’re strong and wonderful and I love you very much, but you really really can’t.”_

“Outrageous ! How eager you are to be rid of me so soon !”

“ _Hey, that’s just low !”_

Ravio watches them bicker from his comfortable spot on the ground, resting his hands loosely in his lap. Both the little girl and her designated older brother are looking brighter as they retort back and forward, respectively leaning forward and backward to pull a face at the other. Link’s face is smooth and flushed and there are dimples on his cheeks and he looks more relaxed than Ravio has ever seen him. He’d love to let them yap for a little longer, and regain some hope and strength in the process, but they’re working on the clock.

“If I may,” he puts in, “I might have a compromise !”

Both Hylians look his way with wide eyes.

“It would only be fair to tell the little lady about our plans, right ?”

“Damn right !” she cheers, lowering her fist onto Link’s skull. Wincing, he’s forced to nod.

“ _Only so you know why you can’t come.”_

“So, the story is pretty long and probably more fun if we don’t tell it in a rush. I’ll just get straight to what’s going on now.”

“Which is ?”

“Well,” he says, “we’re gonna break into the castle and confront the queen, if we can make it to her.”

Rine stares at him blankly, and when she’s bored with that, raises an eyebrow. “So ?”

“So,” he repeats a little flatly. Of course – she is, he reminds himself, like Link in most aspects. Much like him, she lacks a sense of primal fear. “So, we’ll be fighting a bunch of highly trained and probably very deadly knights that want us impaled.”

“Sure.”

She’s still unphased, and he’s losing his marks. “So you understand why you can’t go along with us…?”

“No !” she cries, kicking again. This time Link grabs her ankles and scowls. “I could be your spy ! Your secret asset ! I could stealthily slip between the platoons and feed you information !”

“ _Before you ask,”_ Link sighs, “ _yes, she does actually believe that.”_

“But it only takes one stab, and then it’s over,” he tells her softly, and this quiets her down. “Imagine the burden Link would carry for the rest of his life if he allowed you to die in there ?”

Her eyes flicker down. “What’s your compromise ?”

“You don’t wanna be sent far away from here just yet, especially not on your own. And we can understand that ! But we can’t take you with us instead. So I think the best option would be for you to stay in Castle Town under it’s all over – and then Link can come and pick you up.”

Link flashes him a grin. “ _I like that idea. What do you think, Rine ?”_

But Rine doesn’t answer, because she’s already vibrating on Link’s shoulders, swinging her legs back and forward. In her eyes shines the bright and unpredictable spark of childhood excitement. She nods frantically, hard enough to smack her chin into Link’s head, but pays no attention to the pain.

“Castle Town !” she pronounces, with some kind of reverence. “Castle Town ! I get to see it for myself ! I can visit all the streets ! Find a spot for my workshop !”

“So you like it too ?”

“Yes !” she squeals. Every trace of doubt has vanished from her face. “Please let me stay in Castle Town !”

To seal the deal they follow the path Link had walked earlier, staying close to the walls. Rine climbs off Link’s shoulders and slips one hand into his and the other into Ravio’s, hopping every few steps. As they walk in the shadows, Link fills him in on the situation : Ganondorf’s miraculous survival and the news of protests outside the castle are both met with enthusiasm. Their plan is starting to flesh itself out.

When they reach the main gates, and the shouting becomes clear, Link pulls up his hood and sets his sword against the wall. Rine takes the striped scarf off and hands it over to Ravio.

“Thanks for keeping me warm,” she smiles, “and bringing Link to me !”

“T’was my pleasure,” he replies, giving her a little mock bow.

“You’ll take care of him for me, right ?”

“Of course.”

They share an excessively solemn nod and chuckle merrily. The little girl takes Link’s hand again and waves. “ _Be right back,”_ Link mouths, and with those last words both make for the crowd. They slip between two rowdy Hylians and disappear out of view.

This time, Ravio isn’t kept waiting; Link is back within five minutes and throws his hood back as soon as he steps back into the shadows. His fingers close over the clasps, which he pulls free, letting the cloak drop onto the ground. It’s dripping with something red and watery. Judging from the seeds stuck to the fabric, it’s from some kind of fruit.

“Quite the fiery crowd, huh ?”

“ _You bet,”_ Link groans, rubbing a few seeds off his tunic. “ _They’re throwing tomatoes at the gates. They make a beautiful squishing noise when they hit the guard’s armour.”_

“Wish I was there,” Ravio sighs wistfully. “Who’d you leave her with ?”

“ _Round looking lady. She promised to look after her until I go back. She’s harmless, except for her words. Pretty sure that guard’s grandfather and grandfather’s father are rolling around in their graves.”_

“She’ll be OK ?” He shifts from his position, curled up at the foot of the wall, to have a good look at Link. “And will you ?”

The Hylian shrugs, but he does extend a hand and lay it flat against the ground, palm up. Ravio’s fingers entwine with his. “ _She’s thrilled, and the woman is safe. I think she’ll be fine. I wish I could have kept her with us, but we just… need to get this over with, so everything can go back to the way it was.”_

“Wise words ! And we’ve already got valuable info.” Ravio pauses to grin, tilting his head cheekily. “I guess my good luck charm worked pretty well, hm ?”

The index on Link’s free hand scratches a familiar spot on his cheek. “ _It must have.”_ His lips curl into a small daring smile, and he adds : “ _I’m worried it’s wearing off, though. I think I’ll need another one soon.”_

“I’m sure that can be arranged.” His eyes twinkle teasingly. “We’ll be needing all the luck we can get ! Breaking into a highly secure royal palace isn’t something I’ve ever pictured myself doing, but I’ve gotta admit I’m pretty eager to get to it, now.”

“ _Speaking of which, we need some kind of plan.”_

Ravio raises his eyebrows as high as they go, and Link has to contain a snort.

“ _Yeah, I know – our duo isn’t really into strategy.”_

“That’s the least you could say ! I’m pretty sure we’ve just been throwing ourselves into mess after mess.”

“ _And somehow, it’s been working.”_

“Somehow,” Ravio agrees, nudging his partner with his shoulder.

“ _Still ! Maybe we could try and think of something.”_

A pause.

“ _Anything at all ?”_

“Uhhh…” Ravio drawls out, scratching at his chin. “Honestly, Mr Hero, I don’t see how we can plan anything with such little information. So far all we know is that sunset is our signal. We’re just gonna have to deal with what comes our way like usual.”

“ _Is that really all the Triforce of Wisdom is worth ?”_ Link whines. “ _No sudden and helpful Triforce Senses ?”_

“Nothing since we stepped into Hyrule.”

“ _Hey, that’s OK !”_ he reassures him. He can feel Ravio’s fingers tighten around his hand. “ _We can do without them. Let’s see : there are what, fifteen or twenty guards out there ?_ _I could take six down with my bare hands, so with your weapons, it should be a breeze. We just need to be careful – more than in the forest.”_

“I doubt those guys are as well trained as Yuga’s boys anyway,” Ravio adds.

“ _Correct. It would still be better if we avoid getting overwhelmed, though, so maybe it’s best that we go stealthy. Oh, come on ! Don’t laugh ! We can at least try !”_

The Lorulean unsuccessfully tries to rid himself of his smirk. “Sorry, sorry ! I just can’t picture us sneaking around. I mean, I’d probably trip up two minutes in and knock down enough pots over to wake up the whole of Castle Town.”

“ _Fine !”_ Link rolls his eyes. “ _I sneak. You can… I don’t know, talk to them. They don’t know you, maybe you can distract them for a bit.”_

“Link, please please please tell me you’re joking.”

“…and anyway, what does that matter, right ? Haha, silly me went right off course. What was it I was saying, again ?”

The tallest guard grunts from under his helmet. The sound reverberates several feet. “That you were lost.”

“Lost ? Me, lost ? Yes, absolutely, that’s correct ! I see you’re really dedicated to helping the citizens and tourists of Hyrule. It’s a pleasure to see such devoted men around, you know ?”

Ravio scratches the back of his neck for the thirtieth time, nails raking into his skin hard enough to draw blood. He wouldn’t be surprised if the whole area scabbed over. Out of the corner or his eye, he can see Link creeping across the courtyard, hiding in the castle’s shadow. When the sun had started to decline, the three guards standing in front of the entrance to the cells had departed, and swiftly been knocked unconscious. Link has since then punched up two other groups, but two remain. Meanwhile, Ravio’s bunch are looking more and more suspicious by the second. He wipes his brow, and isn’t surprised when his hand comes back wet.

“Look,” one of the guards says, leaning a little heavier on the hilt of his sword. “Yeah, it’s a bloomin’ pleasure to help. But I get the funny feeling you’re trying to waste our time, and succeeding. I still don’t get what you need us for, and I’m pretty sure my colleagues agree.”

His colleagues, the brutish one and a lanky kid barely out of his teens, both nod gravely. It’s not nearly as impressive as they think it is.

“We-ell,” Ravio says, thinking very hard about how he’ll never forgive Link for this one, “I’d like you, uh, fine gentlemen to direct me if possible. Who knows ! Maybe you could even escort me.”

Behind the trio, Link smacks his sword into the side of a knight’s head and sends him hurling to the ground.

“You know, Hyrule can be a dangerous place when the sun goes down. I’m not questioning your abilities – heavens no ! Of course not. Quite the opposite in fact, you see, I’d very much do with your skills. Who knows when a thief or a murderer might show up ! Haha, because life is full of surprises, right ?”

Another man hits the ground, cushioned by Link’s outstretched arms. Just one left.

“So perhaps you could lend me some of your precious time and make sure I get home alive. My mother is a wonderful tailor, very well known, does work for all the dukes and duchesses – oh yes, absolutely, and she’d be delighted if you helped me find my way. I’m willin’ to be she could reward you, for free obviously, for your chivalry.”

The last man’s feet disappear behind the nearest wall.

“But oh, I wouldn’t want to take up too much of your time, you obviously have very serious duties and LINK, IT’S ABOUT TIME TO GIVE ME A HAND OVER HERE !”

All three guards jump as one and spin on their heels.

“Link ?” one of them repeats.

“ _The one and only,”_ Link says, and socks him in the jaw.

The other members of his trio look like they’re about to scream, so Ravio wastes no time and kicking him harshly in the knee. It makes a loud popping noise, and the man falls to the ground, blubbering with snot and tears. The third guard, the skinny kid with the pale face, has the sense to attempt an escape, but it’s futile : both boys fall upon him at once and he drops to the ground, unconscious and concussed. They pause to check their surroundings before turning to each other and sharing a very loud and very smug high-five.

“ _Excellent !”_ Link cheers. His knuckles are bright red, but he’s radiant. _“That efficiency ! That thrill !”_

“We’re obviously the best team in both worlds !” Ravio grins, stepping over the teen’s slumped frame. “Wow, I’ve talked myself hoarse, but what a _plan !”_

_“We’re fate defying !”_

“Fate _wants_ what we have !”

“And once you’re done celebrating,” a voice cuts in, “there’s a poor man waiting for your help over here.”

That’s enough to make Ravio spin around in an attempt to locate the voice’s owner, but when said owner’s eyes appear, glowing a bright golden in the dark hole across the floor, the Lorulean nearly shrieks. He trips back on one of the guards’ legs and is caught by Link inches from the floor. He lets out the loudest sigh his companion has ever heard.

The voice has the nerve to laugh. “Well, that’s a reaction. Been a while since I’ve seen something so entertaining.”

“Cruel !” Ravio chants, gripping both of Link’s hands on his shoulders. “Cruel and calculated !”

The Hylian beams between them. “ _This is great ! You’ve now met. Ganon, this is Ravio. Ravio, that’s Ganon.”_

“A pleasure to meet you, I’m sure !” the Gerudo calls from his spot. His hands wrap around the small window’s bars.

“You mean a scare ! I can’t say I won’t hold a grudge for that one. Link said you weren’t a threat, but I have to disagree !”

“So you’re the other hero guy, huh ?” he asks, pressing his forehead against the bars. “Funny, you both look rather similar, don’t you think ?”

“ _So we’ve been told,”_ Link replies. “ _Say, how do we get you out of there ? I bet you wanna be there when we break down Zelda’s door.”_

A bright grin pierces the cell’s darkness. “I’d never forgive you if you went without me. There’s a massive door with a lock the size of your skull on it over there. See it ?”

Oh, they do.

“Yes, that one. One of the guards should be carrying the key – it’s proportionate to the lock, so only a fool could miss it. Find it yet ?”

Both of them kneel and push the senior guards over; one of them is indeed carrying an enormous keychain on his belt. Link yanks it free.

“That just can’t be practical,” Ravio comments, watching Link carry it over to the lock. “I mean, doesn’t it hurt to carry that thing around ?”

The Hylian pushes it into the slot and puts all his weight onto the right side, causing the key to slowly turn until an audible clank resounds on the other side of the door. He kicks it in, and it collapses into a cloud of dust.

From the shadows emerges the tall figure of the Gerudo, and lo and behold, he _is_ hunched over slightly, shoulders folded forward unnaturally. He pulls them back into a loud and creaking stretch, arms reaching for the sky – it almost looks like a salute. On his forearm, the Triforce of Power pulsates brightly.

“Thank you,” he says. “I owe you.”

“ _No problem.”_

“Nonetheless. I’ll have to settle the score someday.” He gives their surroundings a sweeping look, eyes landing on Ravio’s figure. He’s standing a few feet behind Link, scratching at his knee. “My thanks to you too, Lorulean. I’m sure your Courage will be useful to us.”

Ravio’s eyes flicker downward. “Actually, I wound up with Wisdom. But I still have this baby, so I’ll do my part !”

He gestures to the sheath attached to his belt. There’s no mistaking its markings, nor the hilt beneath his palm. Ganondorf’s gaze remains attached to it for a moment before shifting away. His appraisal, is seems, is over, and he gives an approving nod.

“Interesting. Together, we form a full Triforce, then.”

Ravio and Link, to whom it obviously hadn’t occurred, turn their eyes on him.

“Think we can use it ?”

“ _Could we combine them ?”_

The Gerudo gives a broad shrug, throwing his neck backwards in a circle. The bones crack every few cycles. “I’m not sure. If the legends are true, a full Triforce will offer its bearers a wish, but who knows how we’re even supposed to form it ? It would be best not to plan upon it just yet.”

He tilts his neck left and right one more time before stepping over the guards’ bodies on the floor. Whether the kicks he administers to the ribs and knees in his way are accidental or a product of unaddressed hate, they land the same. Link watches him walk past, so intensely focused on reading his face that he misses the movement behind him entirely.

“Stop,” Ravio calls. He’s standing very still, staring head-on into Ganondorf’s eyes. “You’re planning to go off on your own, aren’t you ?”

Link feels his gut clench.

“That isn’t quite exact,” the Gerudo tells him. “I understand you want to face her as a team, and I would never refuse to fight by your sides. However, there are certain issues that I’d like to take up with her personally first.”

“ _We can’t keep splitting up,”_ he signs. His stomach is doing somersaults. “ _We have to stick together from here on. Isn’t that what you were saying, earlier on ?”_

“We will. You both have my word that we will battle against her together, if it comes to that. Still, I must ask you to respect this : I need to get there first. It’s a base question of pride. She has thrown me into jail and insulted my people and my home enough time to make any man enraged. I’ve been cooped up either in her lavish rooms or in her cramped dungeons, but tonight, she’ll have to listen to what I have to say.”

He stares down at Ravio, who stares back with surprising intensity – there’s some kind of communication going on between them that Link isn’t in on. Neither of them shows any signs of yielding, despite the growing crease on Ravio’s forehead that’s threatening to become full-blown worry. Link hurries over to his side and takes his hand.

“ _Come on,”_ he mouths. “ _Let him go.”_

There’s a protest on Ravio’s lips, but it dies away before it’s uttered. Link pulls him out of the way, and Ganondorf turns to give both of them a bow. There’s something about the way he walks up the steps to the entrance that’s martial and driven, something that says clearly that diplomacy is dead and buried. The door swings closed behind him, and thus dirt is shovelled onto its coffin – goodbye finesse and goodbye expedience.

He wraps his arms around Ravio’s shoulders and asks : “ _What are you feeling ?”_

And Ravio looks up into his face, and with the weakest of smiles, replies : “That everythin’ is gonna go to shit.”

They shift forward, and he wraps his arms tight around Link, hooking his chin over his shoulder. Link leans in and shuts his eyes. Ravio’s hair tickles his cheeks.

“What about you ?”

“ _That we gotta stay together.”_

“Then we stay together.”


	20. Chapter 20

“…several losses on the front !”

“Can this be allowed to continue ?”

“Would it truly be wise to declare –“

“You don’t understand a thing, do you ?! This isn’t about…”

“…a hundred, two hundred at most, hardly what we can call a handful…”

“The citizens are agitated; the reports just came back, it’s not looking good.”

The conversations come and go, buzzing in her ears like a tenacious fly. Even when she focuses, the ministers’ voices are hardly more than background noise. She adjusts her position, stretching out her fingers briefly before closing them into a fist and tucking her chin over them.

Someone nearby slams a hand onto the table. “You simply refuse to look at the facts ! These attacks haven’t been thought-out, and our men are paying the price !”

“The facts are only important when they back you up, aren’t they ?” a booming voice responds. “You’re just a measly coward ! Change demands sacrifices – are you so new to the job that you don’t know that ?”

“As true as that may be, sacrifices are to be avoided,” another retorts. “We have received a number of alarming reports, for such a short period.”

A sharp sigh rises to her left. Its owner’s tremulous voice cuts into the chatter like a knife. “Are you questioning her Highness’ decision in the matter ? Are you questioning her wisdom ?”

“Of course not, High Priestess,” the first voice splutters. Several chairs are scraped forward hastily. “None of us would dare. Her Highness has vision that we lack. However, there are some points we need to address – it’s a question of law, you see.”

“Law,” she says, shaking her head, “is nothing compared to the power of the Goddesses. It is nothing but a few texts sewed together into the pretence of order ! The Triforce holds the path to a just life, not the courts.”

“Toss ethics, I see,” a quiet voice comments.

There comes a cough. “Perhaps we should ask her Highness to guide us.”

From around the table, a general agreement arises – some hum and some grumble, but all the men turn their heads towards her. She forces her eyes back into focus and gives a sickeningly gracious smile.

“Gentlemen,” she says. “I shall try my best to be of use. What are the issues that must be addressed ?”

The Minister of Public Affairs raises a gloved hand. “If I may, your Grace. We have reports of unrest amongst the population of Castle Town and nearby villages. Hylian congregations settled around invaded territory are also taking up in arms. What wisdom may you offer, so it may be passed down to them ?”

It’s worded so well that every trace of blame is thoroughly erased from his demand, but it’s there in his eyes, and in the way his ugly little moustache frizzles with a sigh. She gets the feeling that some of these men are starting to hate her as much as she hates them. Whether it’s a good or bad thing, she doesn’t yet know, but she’d like to keep the government running itself for as long as possible. When signs of rebellion start to come into view, a few heads will roll as an example, and all should be fine. None of this is a cause for alarm – thus she simply leans in a little, putting more weight on her forearm.

“It is natural for our citizens to worry about the lives of others around them. It only shows that they have compassion for others and love in their hearts. Reassure them on my behalf : we are only protecting them, and as many Hyruleans as possible, from the repeated ascend of Ganon. It may be new to them, but breaking the cycle will ensure the safety of their children and grandchildren after they pass. We are at last looking at the greater picture.”

The minister looks pained. “Yes, yes of course. However, I must add that some of these citizens have formed rebellious groups and begun fighting against our troops despite our explanations. As difficult as it may be, we may be forced to act against them.”

“Those who cannot see the light are bound to block its path from others,” the High Priestess tones, pressing her shaking palms against the table. “Push them if necessary ! Salvation will come to those who deserve it !”

Zelda gives a thin smile. “You have a point, my lady, that we cannot ignore. Dissolve these groups with whatever means are necessary. Discipline comes at a cost, I’m afraid, and we cannot have a few people prevent us from protecting millions.”

“Very well, your Grace,” the minister says. He’s frowning. She’ll have to keep a close eye on him.

The War Minister clears his throat and presents his case – he is closely followed by a handful of others whose titles she can’t entirely recall. To all she hands out her god-branded advice with is piously accepted or mutely acknowledged. There’s death, there’s illness amongst the troops, there’s payback along the way, but if it all comes to work out, none of it will ever have to happen again. These men cannot see further than the tip of their noses, but she sees.

She sees.

The meeting is adjourned, and they all file out of the room one by one. The queen returns to the library where she has spent the best part of this past month, with the head of the royal guards as her sole company; the ministers have much to do in their respective offices, and no time to waste in such a time of crisis. Nonetheless, a few slow down their marches, and fall out of pace with their colleagues – what, is such a thing not allowed ? Surely the nobles must save some time for parading about the place, and taking pleasant walks. Or, perhaps, for some more serious talks.

The Public Affairs minister walks into the next conference room with the absolute confidence of a man with official business, and shuts it behind him. The key turns in the lock.

The two men already standing around the table nod his way.

“Robert,” one says.

“Were you followed ?” the other asks. His fingers drum against the table.

“Of course not,” the minister scoffs. He pulls a cigarette out of his pocket and clamps his teeth down on it. “Not this time, nor the last dozen. Even if I was seen, I doubt anything would come of it – we’re all going after our own agendas now.”

“Evidently,” the first man grinds. He runs prematurely thin fingers across the golden plaque clipped to his jacket; it proclaims, in bold letters, MINISTER OF JUSTICE. “Shall we get down to business ?”

Robert strikes a match and falls into the nearest chair. “Sure. What have you got for us today, Milo ?”

Said man looks up from the window. He has a stern face and clever eyes, which he locks upon the flame dancing on the tip of the minister’s match. Unlike his associates, he wears no jewellery nor embroidery. “You know how it works. You give me the information first.”

The minister laughs easily, turning in his seat. “Yes, yes. You’re correct. Sadly, the situation isn’t evolving, and we haven’t discussed anything new. The queen and the church are doing a very good job at refuting our questions.”

“There’s a blatant breach in political ethics,” the Minister of Justice puts in. “Not to mention human rights. In the name of this so-called alliance that the queen would like to form, territories left and right are being invaded and populations, to put it bluntly, massacred.”

“Wouldn’t that be grounds enough to bring this into the light, by the way ? I mean in the criminal justice sense of the word.”

The man sighs, and his face looks lined too early. “Of course it would be, but there’s always the Legend towering over Hyrule. The queen has the last word over everything, and in this situation more than any other, since she’s put all these campaigns into place to break out of the cycle. Legally, the excuse doesn’t hold, but on religious grounds she’s in the right. Imagine which is more important around here.”

“All in the name of the greater good,” Robert sighs. A few ashes drop into his lap. “Any questions, Milo ?”

He looks at them both, grey eyes flickering from one man to the other. “Any mention of us rebellious groups ?”

“Actually, yes. They’re popping up all over the kingdom, not only on our doorstep, it seems,” the minister explains. “This is supposed to be my domain, you see, so I brought it to light during our discussion. The groups are small in some places, and entire villages in others; mostly, they’re creating barriers at the borders to protect Zora, Goron or Rito settlements. Believe it or not, there’s been some activity to the East in the Gerudo sector too.”

Milo stares. “What was her response.”

“The orders were, lest a little subtler, to kill anyone who refused to stand down. I’m sure that’ll be fuel for you and your group, right ?”

“No one knows about you lot yet,” the justice minister adds. “You’ve been quiet enough that they don’t suspect opposition activity so close to the castle. The only thing that’s been reported is the gatherings in front of the gates, but they’ve just been written off as mild unrest.”

“Thank you,” the man nods. “One more question, and then I’ll talk. Have there been any mentions of the Hero ?”

Both ministers look at each other for a moment. Robert picks the cigarette out of his mouth and takes a drag.

His colleague shakes his head. “No news since we last saw him. When was it, three weeks ago ?”

“I think it’s fairly obvious what happened there,” the man says. “Everything surrounding him has been hazy : from the hunt that was led to find him, to the mysterious plan that the queen acted on despite numerous disagreements from the council. I mean, Lorule ! No one has heard of Lorule in at least three cycles. She just wanted him out of the way.”

“So he’s gone ?” Milo hazards.

“Let’s face it : the most plausible scenario is that the doorway to Lorule has never existed. Who’s seen it, other than that lapdog Hallan ? She tells us all that he’s gone on his epic quest to find help, but chances are, he’s dead in a ditch and decomposing by now. We could all tell that kid was trouble when they first brought him in. Things wouldn’t be happening this way if he was still around.”

The Hylian’s face darkens. He gives a curt nod. “Thank you for your answers.”

“No problem,” Robert assures him, shaking a hand. “Now tell us what’s new down beyond those gates.”

“Very well,” he says. He’s settled on the windowsill, and gives the courtyard periodic glances as he speaks. “Your men were right to dismiss the gatherings around the gates; they’re mostly fanatics and devoted subjects who want to know why audiences with the priestess have stopped. Some are also merchants, and come to complain about their goods spoiling or their stocks running low. The army is using commerce paths and blocking cartels. I know all this because a few of my men have participated in the protests, mostly to test the waters.”

“The result ?” the justice minister asks.

“Lukewarm. While some are losing their faith, most people still have solid beliefs in the church and the queen. I’ve never seen so many people praying in the streets, all around the chapels – it’s like it’s the end of the world. Whoever is in charge of the press amongst you is doing a very good job at mellowing down the facts and feeding the heretics : ‘Queen Zelda Of Hyrule Extends An Alliance Invitation To Neighbouring Kingdoms In An Effort To Prevent The Ascend Of Ganon, more on page 8.’ A surprising lack of actual information in those articles, by the way, not that most of the population read very much.”

“What of the information that we asked you to leak ?”

Robert snuffs his cigarette out on the heel of his boot before fetching another one. “I think the answer to that one was brought to us yesterday morning, Jack. Three independent writers, arrested on charges of blasphemy…”

“Correct,” Milo nods gravely. “This newspaper was feeding four others. Two have been shut down, while the others have gone into hiding. Amongst those three arrested was one of my men. I don’t expect to be seeing him again.”

“We’re sorry for your loss,” Robert says, in that careless way that only politicians can seem to attain. “This meeting is getting a little too long to pass as inconspicuous. Could you fill us in briefly on your plans for the near future ?”

“While the arrest of one of us was a cold shower of sorts, it’s also lit a flame within our group. We’ve been carefully observing our respective sectors of the town and explaining our goals and vision to the people we think share them. So far, we’ve recruited about thirty new members. We’re planning something soon, but you’ll have to forgive me if I don’t go into details. I’d like your surprise to be genuine. We’re done with –“

He leaves his sentence hanging in the air and flattens his forehead against the glass pane, captivated by something outside that escapes both ministers. When they stand up and join him, it’s already gone.

“Well ?” Jack asks. “What was it ?”

“Nothing,” Milo replies in a breath. “For a moment, I just thought I saw a figure outside. It wasn’t a guard, or any of you nobles – it looked…”

 _Familiar_ is the word that escapes him, and it only comes back to him long after their small group dissolves into different directions. But that sight, that figure, put something within him that’s almost close to comfort. Slipping past the gathering in front of the gates, he clings to it.

“Hal,” the queen says. “Give me your report.”

The knight salutes behind her and gives a nod from under his helmet. “Right away, your Highness. Your suspicions regarding the ministers of justice and public affairs were correct. One of my men saw both of them enter the same room five minutes apart, accompanied by a third man. They stayed behind locked doors for ten minutes at most before separating, five minutes apart again. The walls were too thick to hear what they were discussing, but if you so desire, I can position a man within the room after the next council meeting.”

Zelda shakes her head, sending blond locks bouncing down her back. She quickens her pace down the corridor, and Hal follows closely. “No need – it’s no mystery what they’re talking about, is it ? But that’s all it is : talking. They’re powerless as of now. What of the third man ?”

“We had him followed and identified after he left the room,” he reports. “His name is Milo Vaali. He’s a Castle Town villager, working as a tailor. My men say that he might have a connection with one of the writers we arrested last week, which would explain his presence in the castle today. He’s feeding them information about the rebellion.”

“A rebellion,” she repeats, and there’s something aghast about her tone. “It’s quite unbelievable to me that people would wish to stand against unification, especially for the sake of protection. Surely these people have ancestors who were killed by Ganon ! Surely, they must be scared. People are never happy with their leaders, it seems.”

There’s a moment of silence, during which Hal bites his tongue. “They will end up seeing your work for what it is, your Highness.”

“I can only hope so,” she replies. Her pace slows down as they climb the first flight of stairs, and keeps slowing until she’s perfectly still at the top of the staircase, staring at the stained-glass window on the landing. Hal stands respectfully at her shoulder.

After a minute, he dares ask : “Is something wrong, your Highness ?”

And a rich, accented voice bounces up the stairs after them and answers his question.

“There certainly is.”

“ _I swear this castle is like a maze !”_

“Well if you would just – hah – slow down, Mr Hero, we could – oof – figure something out ! Also, as pleasant as holding your hand may be, you’re about to break my fingers.”

Link turns and realises that he _is_ gripping Ravio’s fingers a little too tight – so tightly, in fact, that they’re turning white. He lets go, allowing the poor Lorulean to retrieve his aching arm and rub at his forearm.

“ _Sorry,”_ he signs. “ _I don’t think I’ve ever been this on edge.”_

“You’d think we’ve never fought our way through a monster-infested forest and escaped trained killers, the way you’re talking !”

Link takes a moment to catch his breath, and both of them slow down a little. They reach the end of the corridor and stop by the wall. He leans against it and gives the next hallway a glance.

“ _Somehow, I feel like this might be worse. It’s so…”_

Ravio grips his arm and copies his motion, looking into the room ahead. “Uncertain ?”

“ _Right. The coast looks clear, by the way.”_

“No one outside patrolling either,” he adds. “Let’s move.”

They’ve advanced so far with this method – extreme caution, a lot of sprinting ahead, and a thorough examination of their surroundings. The protocol is made more difficult by the fact that they’re both stressed to the core, and their hands are so slick with sweat that they occasionally slip out of the other, causing them to trip or fall behind. It’s been an hour, maybe an hour and a half since Ganondorf rushed ahead of them into the first annex; since then, they’ve worked their way through the building and the next. Ahead of them, a tall pair of doors lead into the palace’s main structure, where both their friend and their foe are meeting.

Despite their progress, there’s something unnerving about it all : so far, they’ve only crossed paths with two pairs of guards. It’s – worryingly – almost as if they’re busy elsewhere.

It isn’t hard to imagine what with.

“The hardest thing is that we don’t know what to expect,” Ravio tells him as they inch across the next wall. “Obviously, the element of surprise will work both ways, since she isn’t really expecting us either, but it may end up being a race to recover. I mean our duo no offense, but I don’t know if we can win that !”

“ _If we can, we’ll stand back and watch her. But if her Triforce is anything like yours, she shouldn’t be the biggest problem, right ? The guards will be. She’s been relying on my absence and her armies so far…”_

“Yeah, well –“ (he pauses to glance over his shoulder) “I wouldn’t count on it too much. I’m not exactly in touch with my Triforce, am I ? We’re acquaintances at best ! A vague feeling here, an obscure prediction there…”

They slide past a pillar and onto the next wall, but all the manoeuvring doesn’t serve much of a purpose; both the room and the courtyard are completely empty. Ravio detaches himself from the wall and stretches, cutting through the rest of the room and towards the door.

“You gotta remember than all the holders aren’t as repressed as we are ! You saw what Hildie did to that bookshelf. Zelda might have some tricks up her sleeves as well.”

Link reluctantly follows him across the room. _“That’s not exactly reassuring, is it ?”_

“Guess not !” he chirps with trademark cheerfulness, and presses his ear to the doors. They rattle faintly. “Still, it’s better to process it now than in front of her. Hey, come and listen to this !”

“ _You can hear something ?”_

The Hylian brings his face close to the wooden surface and shuts his eyes. It’s faint, but he can pick up some background noises that sound like shouting. Footsteps spiral above them. Ah ! And there’s also a sharp voice approaching their direction, accompanied by periodical clinking. It’s awfully close – close enough, in fact, for him to head the inhale and exhale of its owner. The gears in his head jumpstart into motion: he grabs Ravio by the scarf and flattens him against the wall. The doors are kicked open just in time, effectively hiding them from view. From behind the wooden pane, he breathes hard.

“I _swear_ to you, Higgins, that I will take this to someone of higher rank. Enough is enough ! The third patrol has been late twice this week already, and to capital duties ! The fact that _I,_ a knight of third rank, am forced to run around looking for them, is an insult ! A mind-boggling insult ! Enough is _enough,_ says I !”

A second knight – presumably Higgins – speaks up. “It certainly is, sir. However, I’m being led to believe that the third patrol’s lateness is, for once, out of their hands.

“Well !” the knight of third rank splutters, “What leads you to believe such a thing ?”

“Sir, it’s the fact that they’re lying unconscious in the courtyard, sir.”

The first man’s footsteps move away from them, and stop at the other end of the room. Link briefly wonders if they have the time to run for it, but he turns his head back towards Ravio and finds they’re so close that their noses actually bump together. A thin red line starts to appear under his bandages and spread through the fabric, but he pays it no attention – his eyes are wide and locked on Link’s face. He breathes out slowly, and Link can actually feel it on his face. His fingers are still clutching two handfuls of his scarf.

“Is everything OK, Mr Hero ?” Ravio has the nerve to whisper.

“ _You’re distracting,”_ Link mouths, in a burst of honestly. His face feels hot.

“Why thank you,” he grins, and leans in. Their foreheads touch.

“Get down there immediately ! Take the first three men you run into and examine the whole area. This is no fainting spell – we have an intruder within our gates ! Hurry, hurry up I say ! Don’t just stand there staring like a baboon ! Don’t you see this is an _urgent situation,_ Higgins ?!”

“Of course, sir,” Higgins replies, and the clink of his armour retreats beyond the room and down the nearest staircase.

“The youth are far too apathetic, these days,” the knight mutters to himself. His footsteps come back towards the doorway, where they stop a few yards away from their hiding place. “Now, to report this to her Majesty…”

“Uh-oh,” Ravio whispers, throwing a glance into the space between the door and its frame. “We wouldn’t want that, would we ?”

Link shakes his head. “ _It would ruin our dramatic and surprising entrance.”_

“Let’s go with the old routine, then.”

Thus Link takes a step away from him and slides down the rest of the wall, hiding in the shadows of the room’s pillars. Flattened against it, back close to aching, he waits. Ravio fixes his crooked scarf before coughing loud enough to make the man jump out of his armour – and when he turns towards the door, reaching out to grip the handle, Link falls upon him.

There’s a comical thwack – the knight tumbles to the ground and stays there, drool pooling beneath his face. Ravio steps out from behind the door and grabs his ankles, while Link tugs on his arms; together, they lift him into their previous hiding place and leave him propped against the wall. He makes a noise between a groan and a snore.

“Excellent work as always !”

“ _It’s just such a classic technique,”_ Link smirks. “ _You know, just like in the adventure picture books.”_

“And now we’re the adventurers !” Ravio joins him in the doorway, bumping their shoulders together. “And what a fine pair we make !”

“ _The finest, obviously ! Higgins will come back to an unexpected surprise to spice up his day just a little more.”_

“Poor Higgins. Can you imagine the paperwork he’s gonna have to fill in after this ? A dozen guards unconscious in the courtyard, no sign of the culprits…”

“ _Boss also found knocked out, hidden behind a door on the second floor… No, your Highness, I had nothin’ to do with it !”_

“I find that difficult to believe, Higgins !” Ravio says in a shrill imitation of the queen. “Why, weren’t you just last week complaining about him on my doorstep ?”

“ _Swear on my honour, your Highness ! It wasn’t me !”_

“On your honour, you say ? That does nothing to convince me !”

Chattering so, they walk through the doorway and into the next hall, completely empty safe for lances balancing against the right wall. Some of them have toppled over, while others are barely balancing in place.

“ _Wow, someone was in a hurry !”_

“I could hear them through the door,” Ravio tells him, walking ahead to check the staircase. “All running up the stairs, shouting all sorts of orders. I’m guessin’ we’re on the right track !”

“ _Ganon’s gotta be stirring up trouble up there…”_

“Oh, you bet. Are we heading after ‘em ?”

But Link’s fingers close over his partner’s wrist. “ _Hold on !”_

And Ravio, true to his character, tilts his palm up and wraps his hand around Link’s. He flashes a cheeky smile. “Like this ?”

“ _No,”_ he mouths softly, although he’s smiling. In Ravio’s company, it’s difficult not to. “ _I mean… I think this is as good a time as any other to renew my good luck charm, right ? It’s to-ta-lly worn off now, and that’s dangerous, isn’t it ? Who knows what could happen.”_

“Why, Mr Hero !” Ravio admonishes him, “After all we’ve been through, I thought you’d have learned ! If you want a kiss, you should just ask for one.”

And with that, he leans forward and places a neat and warm peck in the centre of Link’s cheek. The motion, and that with which he then straightens up and starts up the stairs, is so natural that it all feels like it’s part of their duo, part of their routine. The feeling is comforting in a way only the Lorulean can be, and Link senses his apprehensions melt away. There hasn’t been any need to think hard about anything so far, and so there’s no need to think hard about this. Things just happen to fit together.

Mumbling a thank you, he lets Ravio drag him up the staircase.

“How much longer do we have, Hal ?”

There’s a loud crash in the hallway, followed by vivid screams. Something wooden is snapped audibly in two.

“At this point, I’d say no more than two minutes, your Highness.”

Her Highness’ hair is a mess of knots and misplaced locks. All of the sparkling ornaments have fallen out, or gotten entwined badly enough within her hair to disappear completely. In a vain motion she runs a hand through it, only to find it stuck not even halfway through the length. She gives an aggravated sigh.

“Frankly, this isn’t quite going ideally. Last night, I predicted he would break free in the near future, but so soon… Caught so badly off-guard, it’s a miracle we escaped.” From outside the room there comes a colossal slam that makes the walls shake. “I’m surprised the guards have held him off this long.”

“My men are well-trained and willing to lay down their life for you, your Highness,” Hal says. Although his tone is respectful, he sounds a little trained. “I assure you that they’ve all done their very best.”

“And I believe you completely, Hal,” she assures him, sounding vividly like she doesn’t. “However, you simply must admit that their behaviour hasn’t been faultless. Letting Link meet with Ganondorf, for instance, when I expressly forbid contact between the two of them…”

For this, the knight takes the bow and lowers his head respectfully. “My humble apologies for their missteps.”

“Never mind that now. Let us focus on the present, rather than the past. I’m afraid it’s looking rather chaotic, of course – it sounds like he’s about to break through those doors any minute now. Is the press ready ?”

Hal scratches what little of his forehead peeks out from under the helmet. “We summoned them on very short notice, but I was given word that at least three writers are already on the castle grounds. Knowing them, they already have their headlines ready.”

“Good. They’ll be useful, for once. We may be able to turn this situation to our advantage and get some nice articles that’ll fuel the campaigns. Provided he doesn’t just throw you into a wall and murder me in cold blood, that is.”

Beneath his helmet, Hallan flushes. “It shan’t happen again, your Highness. I shan’t falter – you have my word.”

“Make sure that is so,” she tells him. “After all, I have put my safety in your able hands.”

Something crashes into the door; splinters are sent flying in their direction, followed by fist-sized pieces of shattered wood. Hal stands in front of her and lifts his shield – the projectiles embed themselves into the metal and stay there. They stop coming, for there are none left, and in the place of the door a gaping hole sits in the centre of the wooden panes. A figure steps through it ands straightens to throw his arms back into a stretch. Hal’s position doesn’t change.

"State your p–“ he starts, but Zelda clears her throat behind him and beckons him into silence. His gloved hand closes over the hilt of his sword.

“None of that now, Hal. We all know – don’t we, Ganon ?”

The young man shakes his head. He takes another few steps forward, ignoring the knight and his weapon entirely. “I’m not quite Ganon yet though, am I ? You wish I was. It would make things easier for you.”

“Seeing my kingdom collapse would not be _easy_ on me, Gerudo,” she tells him.

“And yet I am supposed to stand by and do just that. It’s no secret you and your army have already invaded the desert. Is there a reason for that, your _Highness,_ other than terrorism ?”

“As a matter of fact, the reason comes not from me but from you.” She stands up behind her guard and, despite his protests, walks right around him. “All I have done is propose an alliance. It is of capital importance to the safety of Hyrulean lives – thus kingdoms that have refused it are being helped on their way. The source of all this, at its roots, is of course _you,_ and if you must glare so, turn your gaze upon yourself !”

Hallan stands there between them, or in the whereabouts, for the queen has bypassed him completely and stands facing the Gerudo, fists clenched by her side. The knight is little more than a spectator, still and rigid to the side of the scene, watching two sworn enemies have a somehow polite conversations. He thinks, not for the first time, that politics go far over his head. The fact the Gerudo hasn’t attacked yet, for instance – and the fact the queen shows no fear – just drives him mad. In a meek movement, he pulls up his helmet and surveys them both.

“EXCUSES !” Ganondorf roars at her, eyes flashing. “You Hylians _love_ to find excuses to kill, pillage and invade ! You soon forget that the Gerudo, and me included, have done nothing to deserve such treatment ! It’s easy to point a finger at the ones who’re bound to turn bad, but everything you do can’t be eternally covered up !”

“You speak as though _we’re_ the ones who have caused repeated calamities that have stripped Hylian families of their loved ones !” she shoots right back. Although her voice is cool, her cheeks are burning. “It is because of such ridiculous claims that I had to have you locked up ! Don’t you understand that I have a responsibility to _act_ , for once ? I cannot stay passive faced with such a clear future ahead of my kingdom ! We _must_ find a solution to protect Hyrule as a whole from your menace once and for all, and you’re just getting in my way !”

Something within Ganondorf’s eyes breaks. For a moment his pupils are a gleaming red, blank and glassy, before returning to their natural gold. He snarls. “My menace…? You fanatics can’t tell reality and fiction apart ! I have shown no sign of menace nor hostility since my arrival – my only crime is to bear the name I was given at birth, but I had _no say_ in that ! Have you ever asked yourself why I journeyed so far from my homeland, to play right into your hands ?”

“To plan your own course of action better, evidently !” she says shortly. Her gaze is a steely glare.

But the Gerudo only shakes his head. “Wrong,” he tells her. “I came to look for peace between our people, and to retie cut ties. I had somewhere within me the hope that you royals might have bettered yourself, and that you might, too, be looking to end these conflicts once and for all. Had you spoken to me, had you _looked_ at me properly, we might have built this alliance of yours without the massacres !”

“But we need not your help,” she retorts, and there’s something sickening about her smile. “I need neither your assistance nor your authorisation to run my kingdom. To trust you would be an act of national suicide – the only person worth trusting is myself. I can bring this alliance through. I can create an empire where threats of destruction are kept at bay. If you want something done well, you have to do it yourself ! I have a responsibi…”

And here she trails off, because her eyes have locked onto the Gerudo, and her mouth sits open, lips slightly parted. The man himself doesn’t realise, for his own gaze has lost itself in his frown and he sees only red. Hallan, standing very still, sees it all : he sees the purple markings appear on his skin and glow once, blindingly, before disappearing entirely. He also sees a split second of fear in his queen’s eyes. This he shall try and forget.

“It always has to _FIT_ with you !” Ganondorf cries. “Everything has to follow the narrative you’ve made ! Link didn’t fit, so you threw him out for the vultures to feast on. You forced his hand and threatened to murder so that he would play his role the way you liked. I don’t fit, so you locked me away, because you can’t comprehend it ! Even now, you don’t see us the way we are – either that, or you _can’t_ , and which is more miserable…? But we won’t fit, you hear ? No matter how much you try to twist us, we won’t do what history wants us to !”

“Are you so sure ?” she asks, and her voice is so detached, so very calm, that even Hal turns to her in shock. She stands, back straight and chin level, the fierce blush having faded from her face. Her arms are crossed over her chest in a way that’s almost peaceful. “Look at yourself.”

The Gerudo doesn’t need to – surely he can feel the brutal pulse of his Triforce, and the spiralling vines now marking his skin with purple. They throb brightly on his forearms and shoulders, threatening to soon invade his face. His lips twist into a grimace of despair.

“What did you expect…? What did you think would happen ? You know what you’re doing. You _know what you’re doing,_ goddamn it, so don’t you dare say the menace comes from me !”

“It’s just fate,” she says softly. “It’s wound tightly all around you. Everyone doesn’t have the strength to break free.”

Ganondorf does not answer her, but someone does : there’s a deafening crash in the hallway, followed by frantic swearing. All three of them turn towards the door, temporarily distracted from waging war on each other, and wait for a figure to appear in the doorway.

Eventually, it does. But it comes as a pair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kriegspiel is taking a one week break ! the next chapter will be posted on the 22nd. thank you for reading !


	21. Chapter 21

The plan is simple : they just have to be quiet.

The word simple, unfortunately, doesn’t apply to their duo, and within the first five minutes of their exploration they succeed in breaking several pots, tripping over at least six guards and causing about a dozen weapons to topple over with a clatter. In their defence, the main building is a mess to behold : the ground floor is relatively damage free, but as soon as they climb the first staircase they find the floor covered in unconscious men and their equipment. They have to proceed cautiously and double-check where to step. Of course, the caution part only gets them so far, and soon the cacophony begins.

“You know,” Ravio comments, picking up the fragments of a vase he’s just elbowed off its shelf, “It’s a miracle no one has come to check on us, with all the noise we’re making. Maybe the whole army’s having a collective nap.”

He doesn’t bother to whisper, and only rolls his eyes when Link turns to him and glares, lifting a finger to his lips. He seems to realise how futile the gesture is when he accidentally kicks an abandoned helmet and sends it rattling across the carpet.

Ravio’s right, and it’s unnerving – more yet than when they’d made their way through the annex and bumped into Higgins and his boss. All the footsteps and yelling they’d heard through the door has mellowed into complete silence that hounds them on their way. The men strewn across the floor, sprawled in a variety of positions, speak loudly enough, but surely _all_ the castle guards can’t be in this state. Surely.

“ _Ganon came in like a storm, huh ?”_

“I’m surprised most of these guys are still breathing. Well, he certainly made things easier for us ! Let’s hurry upstairs !”

Link lifts his head up and nods. They step over the armoured bodies and continue up the carpeted stairs.

If he’s told Ravio that he knows his way around, it’s purely in an effort to pretend to be competent – Hyrule Castle is no more confusing than on his first week-long visit, and he’d even managed to get lost with guides, back then. He’s already been to the library, but he can’t recognise a single of the corridors they walk through, nor the portraits they pass. It’s all wasted on him. Thankfully, they have a trail of unconscious men to guide them, and following them has gotten them so far. He steps around one of them, hanging off the steps, and hops onto the second-floor landing.

“ _This way,”_ he signs, with unusual confidence for someone who has no idea where he is.

The corridor is blocked, a few metres ahead, by a pile of knights which towers at least five feet high. Some of them still seem to be groaning. There’s no real way _around_ them – limbs are poking out of every side, and no one can tell whose sword is digging into whose back – so Ravio gives both sides a quick glance and steps towards the right wall. It’s the least cluttered, and by climbing onto a man’s armour plate, he easily hops off to the other side. The poor Hylian mutters a half-baked curse before passing out. He’s spared the feeling of Link walking over him in turn.

“That’s a sure sign that we’re nearing our destination !” Ravio says, carefully making his way around a protruding lance. “I’m willin’ to bet we’ve stepped over at least half of the Hylian army, at this point.”

“ _You gotta wonder who’s left to protect the queen,”_ Link puts in. “ _Probably won’t make much of a difference regardless. Hey ! I think I recognise this carpet.”_

“It’s really tasteless, ain’t it ?”

“ _It’s not even the worst thing in this place.”_

“I can believe that,” Ravio laughs, dodging a broken chandelier that’s made out of tiny glass horses. “Ganon hasn’t trashed it half as much as it deserves. Frankly, if we weren’t in such a hurry, I wouldn’t mind contributin’ !”

And Link snorts along with it, but their banter doesn’t clear the tension as much as it usually does. They’re very good at hiding it from the outer eye, but not from each other, and Link can feel it in the tightness with which Ravio grips his hand, and the tiny glances he keeps throwing back and forward. For his part, he can feel sweat pearl at the nape of his neck and trickle down his skin. It’s terribly uncomfortable.

The Lorulean tilts his head his way, swinging their joined hands back and forward. “Say, Mr Hero,” he starts softly, but both of them take an urgent step back and flatten against the nearest wall. There’s a cry up ahead, and it’s loud enough to make them nearly jump out of their skin. Ravio sinks into his scarf.

“ _That’s him,”_ Link mouths. “ _That’s Ganon !”_

“What the hell’s going on…?”

Link lifts his index up to his lips and nods towards the corridor. Ravio leans in, squinting just had enough to make out the doorway, or what’s left of it. He lifts an eyebrow.

“ _Come on,”_ Link motions. His blood is thumping loudly in his ears. With each extra step they take, the voices become louder, until they can make out every word. Behind him, Ravio is holding his breath – their eyes meet, bearing the same question. Do they go in now ? Or wait and listen ?

The answer is determined for them. Truly, being quiet isn’t their forte.

The Hylian is halfway through turning back when his ankle is caught against something sharp that causes him first to yelp, and then to start falling. For his partner’s credit, he _does_ grip his tunic and both hands, but gravity is stronger than they are and Link collapses backward into a clutter of armour spread across the ground. This one is apparently empty, because he makes a generous amount of clattering when he falls right through it and onto the ground, sending armour plates and screws crashing into both walls. Ravio trips over him in his effort to keep him upright and contributes a loud thump of his own that, clearly, they could have done without.

The room has gone quiet – neither Ganon nor Zelda is yelling, and Link is pretty sure he can feel their stares, even through the wall. He rubs the back of his head and manages to sit up. Winded, he doesn’t get much further.

Ravio has already hopped back onto his feet, and offers him a helping hand.

“ _That’s not exactly the way I pictured us entering the scene,”_ he admits, brushing hair out of his face. “ _But somehow, I’m not surprised.”_

“I think it’s very in character !” Ravio says, wearing the bright grin he reserves for the worst situations. “There’s no way we were gonna be stealthy all the way.”

He pauses to give the broken door a glance, before turning back to Link. “Well ? Are we going ? We wouldn’t want to keep them waitin’.”

“ _That would just be rude,”_ he smiles. His fingers close over the straps holding the Master Sword’s sheath in place. “ _Think we’ve ruined the element of surprise ?”_

“Are you kiddin’ ? No way ! Just wait till she sees your face – then the game’ll be on.”

Together they walk towards the shattered door. A piece of wood crashes at their feet. Inside the library, silence awaits.

Rine has never seen such a little house so full, and that’s saying ! Back home, it was common for people to get together for meals and festivals, but not even their homes were so crowded. There’s room enough for the Hylian lady – Miya, she said her name was – and Rine, who takes up nearly no space at all, but there are four guests currently huddled together in the living room, and it’s threatening to crack.

Miya had told Rine to stay in the bedroom until they had gone, an invitation she had obviously rejected. From her spot at the top of the stairs, she’s shielded from view and can hear the whole discussion. It’s hard to put together.

There’s a map on spread out on the table, and a man taps it urgently with his finger. “Right here,” he tells the others. “That’s where I saw it !”

“It could have been anything, Milo !” another cries, grimacing under his ginger moustache. “A guard ! A noble. Hell, it could have been the _queen_ – seeing a figure isn’t important enough to organise a meeting, especially with all the guards crawling around !”

“I’m telling you it wasn’t a guard !” Milo bites back. “No armour ! No fancy clothes ! It was in the shadows, and it had a sword. I’m certain that it was no ordinary passer-by !”

“A cloak ?” Miya inquires. “Was it wearing a cloak ?”

“Yes ! Face completely hidden. But I can assure you –“

A younger woman raps her knuckles against the table. “I just don’t understand where you’re going with this. You reported mere minutes ago that the ministers on our side have had no word of the Hero’s return and that they thought him _dead._ What the hell would he have been doing strolling outside the castle in the first place ?”

“Intuition only gets you so far,” the ginger man puts in.

“I saw someone,” Miya says. “No sword, but dressed like a swordsman. I thought he might have been a foreign soldier, but he was Hylian alright. Cloak, hood down. He brought me a little girl and asked me to keep her safe while he went about his business.”

Rine’s skin prickles.

All four visitors turn to stare at her – the ginger one’s eyes are bulging out of their sockets. The fourth, who has remained silent until now, lifts his head at last. She’s surprised to see he has darker skin and shorter ears; in fact, he doesn’t look Hylian at all. His golden eyes stare into Miya’s.

“Where is she ?” he asks. “The girl.”

“She’s…” she starts, and hesitates. She looks at the others, but all gazes are on her. “Are you sure we should be getting a kid involved in this business ?”

Milo nods. “This girl knows who that hooded swordsman was. And if my… ‘intuition’ turns out to be right, we need to act fast.”

“She’s in here, right ? Bring her down,” the young woman says.

This, Rine senses, isn’t looking good for her. These people are looking for Link, but she doubts Link wants to be found. Her little heart hammers against her ribs as she watches Miya glance up at the staircase. They’ll come up to find her soon enough. Only one way to reverse the situation !

“Looking for me ?” she asks, and jumps down the stairs.

Being stared at by five adults is immensely frightening, but she wears it well. She stands, chin high, in front of them and puts her hands on her hips.

Milo is the first one to regain his composure. He runs a hand down his face. “Were you listening to our whole conversation ?”

“Vaguely,” she lies easily.

“Could you answer our questions, then ?” It’s clear he’s trying hard to be gentle. “We need to know who that man you were with is.”

She shrugs. “He’s my brother. I _could_ tell you more, I guess, but only if you tell me why you’re after him.”

“Forget it,” the mysterious man says. He’s looking very hard at her, but there’s new softness in his eyes. They’re golden, just like hers – their complexion is almost the same. Her mother tells her it’s quite rare. “That little girl looks almost Gerudo. If the swordsman is her brother, he’ll look the same. He can’t be the Hero.”

“I’m tellin’ you !” Miya protests. “He was Hylian ! Dirty blond, blue eyes. Barely tanned. They looked nothing alike !”

“My grandpa was a Gerudo,” she tells the man. He’s the only one who’s still calm, and therefore the only one she trusts right now.

“You and your brother. Are you related by blood ?”

“No,” she shakes her head. “I know he’s the one you’re after. I just want to know why !”

All five of them look at her in silence again. Not for the first time, she’s frustrated by her young age.

“Are you working for the queen ?” she tries again.

Miya gives the others a look – she catches Milo nodding imperceptibly. Both of them seem like they’re the ones in charge. The young woman gives a reluctant shrug, and the ginger man sighs his consent. The golden-eyed man on the other side of the table smiles.

“No,” Miya answers her at last. “We’re not working for the queen. Quite the opposite, in fact. She’s been using her title to do some very nasty things…”

“Such as burning down my home !” Rine puts in, and her fieriness causes a few smiles to appear.

“We’re sorry for your loss,” Milo tells her softly. “We’ve lost some friends, too, because of her decisions. We want to stop her from causing more pain to more people, so we’re working together to do that.”

The ginger man nods. “That’s why we need to know who the man you call your brother is. If he turns out to be the Hero as we thought, this could be the right time to turn the tables on the queen, with his help.”

Rine considers this. She looks into their faces and admits they’re not as scary as she had first thought – all of them, in fact, look painfully normal. Link will probably be upset, but this may be her opportunity to help him after all. No matter how strong he and Ravio are, they can’t take on an army on their own.

“So ?” the young woman nudges. “Will you help us ?”

She’s made her decision. “I will. I’ll tell you about Link and what’s going on, but only if you promise to go and help him right away.”

Promises from adults are rarely worth much, but all five of them turn to her with a hand above their hearts and promise anyway.

Her hands clasp Lurelei’s bandaged fingers and squeeze lightly. Laying very still under the infirmary sheets, they slumber on.

“I hope our Ravio is safe and sound.”

For the very first time, Ganondorf is allowed the delicate and exquisite pleasure of seeing Zelda’s surprise. Never mind that he would be in the same state, had both little heroes not saved him from his cage; the sight is just too appreciable. Her mouth falls open all at once as though she were some kind of puppet. Her eyes in turn widen and flicker between him and the figures advancing towards them. One of them swoops low and steps through the battered hole, whistling merrily while he’s at it. That Lorulean has a sense of humour.

Zelda does her best to recover, but she’s destabilised – he can see it in her eyes when she calls her lapdog over and whispers a few words into his ear. The knight turns very pale and eyes both newcomers. She says his name harshly, and he snaps out of it, running past the young men and through the doorway. They just watch him go with detached surprise.

Her Lowness’ eyes have locked onto the sword that’s hanging from the Lorulean’s belt. Its name is no secret to any of them. She’s wearing a grimace of disbelief, but it’s her own fault for expecting Link to fail. He’s just done his job a little too well. Her attempt to compose herself and smile goes wasted.

Ravio and Link both stop a safe distance from them – the Hylian is frowning, but his companion looks unbothered. He tucks his hands into his pockets and asks :

“So what do we do now ?”

He is, of course, met with silence, which he takes in his stride.

“Oh, okay. Let’s just stare at each other, then.”

And that they do – no one is stupid enough to make the first move. After all, whoever does will carry the blame. They just smoulder at each other for a moment, or rather all three of them frown very hard at Zelda while she tries to frown back. Out of the corner of his eye, Ganondorf catches a glimpse of a little Hylian. He’s carrying a notebook. Of course, here comes the press… But it’s not looking so good for you now, Zelda, is it ?

She realises this very fast, and puts on an appeasing face that nearly fools them. Her hands rest gently atop her chest. There’s something angelic about the tussle of her hair that might have given her a charm, but it’s a little late for that.

“It’s a pleasure to have you back, Hero,” she says softly. It’s clear that she’s an excellent actress. Anyone would be fooled by her blissful tone. “I was so very worried for your safety…!”

“ _You mean worried I might be safe,”_ Link corrects her with short gestures. His jaw is set just right to appear insolent, and the Gerudo swells with pride.

“Don’t be absurd. I’ve been praying for your return, these past few weeks. Our kingdom would do well with your helping hand, as well as that of your newest companion.”

With these words she stretches out a hand to Ravio, who regards it with casual coolness. He takes a step back, and his shoulder brushes against Link. His fingers rest loosely over his sword’s hilt.

Three weeks in a dark and slimy dungeon works hard on the eyes, and he hadn’t noticed very much when they’d first met, but it’s clear to Ganondorf now that Link’s new companion is no swordsman. There’s no doubt in his aptitude, but like Link himself, he’s not a soldier. He’s too soft, too gentle in his features. His fingers and face, on the other hand, are covered in small scars. He knows his trade, but swordplay isn’t it – he figures that he’s just touching the hilt to attract the queen’s attention to it, then. A smart move.

Her eyes can’t help but follow the motion. In them, the blue metalwork and the winding gold are reflected equally. Her attention is locked on the blade for the second time, and this time she catches its meaning. Ravio only grins under her stern gaze – better yet, the kid gives a little wave and leans against Link’s shoulder.

“You’re… Lorule’s Hero ?” she tries, words coming to her slowly.

Link cocks his head. “ _I got him here just like you asked. Shouldn’t you thank me for my efforts ?”_

“He deserves thanks, alright. How about a medal – or better, retirement ?” Ravio puts in. “You know, it pretty dangerous, finding me, bringing me through again…”

“ _Especially without a way back. I wonder what was up with that.”_

“I’ll consider it,” she says shortly. It’s clear that her gaze has locked upon something far behind them. Her lips are a thin line as she continues. “A million thanks to you, Link, for completing the task I gave you. My gratitude cannot be expressed.” (The look in her eyes confirms this very efficiently.) “And my thanks to you as well, Hero, for accompanying him and agreeing to help my kingdom.”

“It was my pleasure.”

She brushes a lock of hair out of her mouth and gives a curt bow. “Glad to hear it. In any case, I was… not expecting you.”

If she hears Ravio mutter ‘no shit !’, she shows no sign of it.

“I was in the middle of a conversation with Mr Dragmire, here. We seem to disagree on a number of topics, and I must admit our argument escalated a little. I hope you weren’t startled – I’m not used to raising my voice, but I got rather passionate.”

Ganon gives a shrug. “You know what ? That’s almost not a lie. We do disagree on a ‘number of topics’… Like, say, human rights. The value of life. Oh, war crimes. Small talk, obviously. No need to get worked up over it.”

“Such talk,” she says, gritting her teeth, “is why I sent Link on his quest in the first place. Now that he has returned safely and with an extra pair of hands to offer, we shall together put an end to your threats !”

At this point, none of them are sure who she’s talking to. She’s clever – to get her plan to develop so fast, and in such a developed manner, surely implies high intelligence – and she definitely isn’t delusional, so who is she trying to convince ? Ganondorf has already noticed, but Ravio is the one who reacts first and turns towards the door. Behind the splinters, a small group of faces has gathered, forcing their way through the hole. They all look middle-aged and tattered : a typical herd of journalists. They scribble down the queen’s words with frenzy and follow her every step. What an audience to have.

Ravio’s figured it out alright, and his first instinct is to turn on his heels to check out the people at the door. Zelda’s even looking at them – there’s no pretence of her trying to convince him and Link, at this point. She’s trying to make things turn out favourable for her by lying through her teeth. Ideally, he takes his turn in his stride and makes his way to the door. Maybe he yells, or maybe he has to hold up his sword a little to convince them to scatter. Either way, he walks back with the job done, and they can get on with crushing her plans.

What happens instead is frankly terrifying, and it is with those two words that he’ll later describe it. His lungs fill up with ice, or so it feels. His neck turns rigid, his head too heavy. At this point, he tries out a gasp, but can’t get his mouth open. He can’t, in fact, move a single inch. The sensation is suffocating, he’s lacking air and space and feels like he’s in a dark, tiny room without a slick of light; his eyes rolls back into his skull. They’re the only thing he can still move at will, and immediately water. He sets them on Zelda and finds her staring right back. Are her eyes…shimmering ?

“You have opposed this alliance every step of the way,” she continues, glaring at the Gerudo. “You have done your best to jeopardize my efforts to make Hyrule a better place ! But I cannot say I’m surprised. It is, after all, from _you_ that I must protect my people. Don’t think that Link’s return has made me forget. Ganon is starting to come out, and with him war and deaths again.”

“Now you’re just making it up !” he exclaims. His arms, previously crossed peacefully over his chest, are now tense by his sides. “Opposed the alliance ? I came _looking_ for one ! No – no, I see where this is going. We’ve already gone over his conversation five minutes ago. You’re practically quoting yourself word for word ! If you’re looking for another frightening reaction from me, I suggest that you give up !”

“ _Frightening reaction ?”_ Link inquires.

Ganon shakes his head – _not exactly the best time to discuss it, is it ?_ – and the Hylian drops it.

Ravio, for his part, can only stare on. Sweat trickles down his neck.

“You seem to have trouble grasping the truth of the matter,” Zelda continues, “and are very determined to convince me – or perhaps my knight – that your vision corroborates with it. I repeat that it is not so ! I’m not trying to vilify you, Mr Dragmire. I’m trying to protect my people. Is that so bad an intention ?”

“ _Protect ?”_ Link mouths, taking a heavy step forward. His jaw has snapped back into place, but his eyes are dark and set. He has grudges of his own. _“Setting fire to a forest village is ‘protecting’ ? Killin’ innocent people is ‘protecting’ ? I bet lockin’ me up in Lorule counts as ‘protecting’ me as well, right ?”_

“I must ask you to stay out of this !” she snaps. He’s moved, and it’s making things harder for her – with his back turned to the door, his signing had been lost to the reporters, but they can catch his words now. There’s more furious scribbling. “You have no idea what it takes to run a kingdom, and to be responsible for the wellbeing of millions. Your attitude is the very thing I feared when you first walked into here !”

“ _Which is why you tried to get me_ murdered, _right ? Yuga was working for you, wasn’t he ?”_

“That’s _enough_ baseless accusations ! Watch your mouth ! Your title doesn’t give you the right to lie through your teeth !”

“Then what are _you_ doing, exactly ?” Ganondorf cuts in. “Tellin’ the purest of truths, aren’t you ?”

“I’m simply fulfilling m–“

“For how long are you going to stall ?!” he roars, tanned face darkening. “That’s enough of your lies ! Get those wormy press men out of here and drop the façade ! You can only keep this going for so long !”

“Excuse me,” someone says meekly. “May I have a word ?”

The statement cuts through the tension like a knife, and reaps a heavy moment of silence, during which the men gathered at the door are nudged or pushed out of the way. All three of them turn to stare at the knight who emerges from the small crowd and snaps a salute. Ravio recognises him first, by his voice, but in his current state there’s little he can do. Higgins takes a step forward and bows deeply.

Clearly, he takes the silence as an agreement. “Your Highness, I have urgent news.”

With infinite patience, Zelda crosses her arms over her chest and nods.

“The Captain and I found a number guards knocked unconscious in the courtyard,” he continues. “The lock on our prisoner’s cell also appears to be broken. I fear we have intruders, your Grace.”

“Indeed,” she says dryly. The look she gives her company is scalding.

Higgins seems to follow her gaze and catch the meaning behind it – or at least what little of his face can be seen under his helmet twists into the picture of discomfort. He squints and looks at Ganondorf and at Link standing next to him, eyebrows still tight together. Then he coughs.

“…awaiting further orders, your Highness ?”

“Have you crossed Hallan’s path ?” she asks him, fingers tapping against her elbow. “I sent him down a few minutes ago.”

“Ah ! Yes ! He was in quite a rush, and had no time for me, you see. He mentioned calli–“

Zelda coughs loudly. “Yes, I know what he mentioned, since I’m the one who issued the order. If there’s nothing else, you should join him.”

“Well, see, there is, your Grace,” he says. “There’s quite a lot of noise outside the gates, and it’s coming from a gathering of citizens. They want to be let in.”

“Just the usual crowds, is it not ?”

“That’s the thing, your Highness. They’re carrying weapons, this time around. Quite a lot of them, as a matter of fact.”

For so few words, they certainly work up a reaction – the dozen men stood at the scene stand up as one. Mouth half open, Zelda watches them grab at each other ferociously. Kicking and shoving becomes a need of survival, and one after the other they rip themselves out of the hustle to run down the stairs. One writer leaves his wig behind. Higgins’ gaze swings between the now empty doorway and Zelda’s tense figure. Somewhere in his gaze lies the recognition that it’s not looking good for him.

When the queen speaks to him again, her voice is cold as ice. “I suppose that Hallan and his men will be busy keeping them out of the castle grounds.”

“I’m afraid so, your Highness.”

“Well then, Higgins. I suggest you get the hell out.”

He doesn’t need telling twice.

Hallan is, to say the least, rather torn.

This kind of thing isn’t good for his heart. What had the court physician told him ? Stay away from loud noises if possible. Avoid physical stress. Less ground coffee beans and less alcohol. He is, if he remembers the note well, to remove himself from a situation that sends his heartbeat skyrocketing.

Everyone is making this very, very difficult for him, and he’s sure he’s violating each and every one of those suggestions. Loud noises ? The crowd yelling at the top of their lungs is covering that. They’re organised, it seems, to spread chaos, and scream at irregular intervals. A textbook tactic. Still, he just keeps jumping. His stress levels aren’t exactly being helped, either. Between the pushes of the first row of protesters and the heavy decision he’s being left to ponder, relaxation seems a far away concept he can’t even formulate. He’s had coffee this morning, and he still has burnt marks on his tongue from it. As for the alcohol, a flaming bottle of brandy has just exploded into one of his knights’ face. It’s all going marvellously well.

He’s a simple man. He’s gotten this far up the ranks by obeying his orders without question and never stepping out of line. He’s been consistent and reliable. He accepted his position as the queen’s personal guard and First Knight because he assumed his work would become more political, and less bashing-people’s-heads-in focused. He also assumed it would be _calmer_ on the nerves. Instead, his heart feels like it’s on goddamn fire. If his husband finds out about this, he’ll kill him before a heart attack can.

“We’re on standby until you give us your orders, sir,” a knight calls to him. He’s heard that exact same sentence about seven times in the past ten minutes, each time in a different tone and voice. What he’s gathering from this instance of it is that his men are tired and on edge and deathly sick of waiting. Behind and through the gates, the crowd continues to pulsate.

“Understood,” he replies curtly, wishing he really did. This entire situation is beyond him. The queen has explicitly told him that backup is expected and demanded in front of and around the library – he can understand that, having seen for himself whose company she’s in. But is he really expected to let these people break down the gates and storm the palace ? How can one army defend the queen from both the Scourge and protesters at once ?

Ordinarily, it would be a quick job. Walk in there with swords at the ready – sure, some of them might be doused in cold wine or hit by rotten fruit, but it would take them no more than fifteen minutes to handcuff all of these bastards. Trouble is, there are around a hundred of them, opposite what fifty or less knights are left standing in Castle Town. Also, they’re carrying a variety of weapons ranging from pitchforks to double-edged swords (seriously ?), and they look very angry. Right now, it’s all a question of time. Either the crowd breaks loose first, or it’s Ganon. Hal just can’t be in two places at once.

“We demand an audience with the queen !” a ginger-haired young man cries a few feet ahead. Both his hands are wrapped tightly around the gates’ bars. Further along, a group of men are ramming a tree trunk into them. Gradually, they’re making a worrying bend. “It’s our right as citizens to be informed of what’s going on !”

One of the knights slams down his halberd. “Be quiet ! You cannot impose your presence on her Highness’ grounds ! There’s no reason for unrest. Go home before you’re all arrested !”

“No reason for unrest ?” he repeats, voice heightening in pitch. His company gives a hearty laugh. “We’re being lied to ! All the newspapers talk about is alliances and peace, but from every corner of Hyrule people are fleeing massacre ! I think that’s a goddamn good enough reason for unrest, you fucking pig !”

“Why you…!” the knight begins. Hal can’t quite make out his face, but it’s likely he’s a young recruit. He clearly lacks experience of this kind of event, because he goes forward to grab the man by the collar. His helmet nearly comes off when a round woman smashes a pan into its side. Rattled, the knight falls backwards in a symphony of clanging. The crowd claps and howls.

“We’ll take as many of you down as it takes !” the man screams, and behind him swords and kitchenware are lifted as one. “We ain’t scared no more ! Arrest us ? We’d love to see you try !”

The mob screams towards the sky, one pulsating, sweaty mass – the metal gates crash and clang in time, part of the bars bending all the way down to the ground. A series of ruthless kicks is enough to create a passage. Watching an enormous, red-faced farmer carrying what looks like a spiked shovel step into the courtyard, Hal is reminded of the urgency of this whole situation. Damn, that’s a big shovel. Briefly, he wonders how many of his men he’ll have to wipe off the floor.

“Run !” the ginger man shouts into the crowd. “They can’t stop us all !”

And while he’s definitely right, the first dozen people that heed his call and run through the opening won’t be the ones to escape. Hal has a hunch that redhead boy knows this. They’ve planned this out, possibly for a long time – more than a hundred of them are standing, but half will serve as dog meat. His knights grab the first belligerents and wrestle them down to their knees. He himself finds his hand making its way onto the hilt of his sword.

The man lets the crowd drown him, falling back behind overly eager protesters, but he has a final message. And he cries it out at the top of his lungs, for the whole town to hear, and it rattles in all their ears like a ringing bell.

“Find him !” is what he cries. “Find the Hero ! Find Link !”

We’ve got a worm in our court, Hallan realises. And it’s too late to dig them out of the dirt.


	22. Chapter 22

This is it, isn’t it ?

There are four people in the room. All four are stamped with the mark of the Goddesses and carry it in their own way. All of them are too young to be in such a position. They have conflicting opinions, and conflicting morals. They’ve found each other, fought each other, and all four have scrambled their way back into this very room to meet with the others. There’s no one else. There’s no other sound. Even the screams of the crowd two staircases below are muffled and distant. Breathing becomes deafening.

In all minds, the same message : what do we do now ?

What will the other three do ?

Where do we stand ?

…Are we going to have to kill each other ?

“I hope you’re satisfied,” Zelda says. Her voice is perfectly calm, but it shatters the silence with brutality. The three men standing before her cringe back. Link’s hands fly to his ears before dropping back to his side. His fingers tremble erratically. He’s not using them. Should he be using them ?

No, Ganondorf shakes his head from his spot. His red hair swings gently with the motion. His arms remained crossed, strong and tanned and void, for once, of their usual golden attire. Satisfaction has yet to knock on his door. It’s unclear what his intentions are, and Link feels a little like the first time he’d met him. He’s hard to read, and Link is a bad reader.

He’s mute, and has no answer worth giving her anyway. One voice he expects to hear, dripping and pooling with familiar sarcasm, fails to echo through the library. Where’s Ravio ? He’s standing beside him, but his body is perfectly still. Not a strand of hair is out of place. His chest and shoulders do not rise. Is he breathing ? His green eyes flicker left and right, but his smile isn’t there. He looks set in stone.

What do we do now ? Link finds his first and personal answer, and turns to his companion. He presses a hand to his cheek and finds it uncharacteristically cold, and none as soft as it has always been – there’s something in Ravio’s eyes that’s _screaming_ , so loudly that he can almost hear it. He takes his hand and finds it limp. If he were to push the boy, he would probably crash down still frozen in his very position, like a tailor’s mannequin. It’s sudden and scary and there’s a more than likely cause for it that even Link can figure out in an instant.

“ _What did you do ?”_ he signs, clumsily and slowly and with only one hand. The other stays wrapped tightly around Ravio’s fingers. The Lorulean doesn’t quite blink, but something in his eyes shows relief. How lonely it must be, to be locked inside your own head. Link turns on his heels and gives the queen a dark glare that scrunches up and lines his face. “ _Make him go back to normal !”_

Zelda raises an eyebrow. He can feel her gaze traveling down his arm and up Ravio’s in a pretty curve guided by their joined hands. She looks at the young man with laid-back surprise, oh, quite, like she had forgotten she’d fucked him up at all. The crispness of his attitude melts away, and her shoulders are round and relaxed again. Her lips pluck up into a pout. Oh, how detestable she looks. Any onlooker would be quite smitten, but Link’s blood is boiling.

“Cute,” she says, and his ears turn red with anger. Not because of her words, nor her smile, but because her tone almost fits. It’s like she means it. In fact, she does. “I see you care about him. I’m sorry, but I can’t do that.”

“ _Can’t ?”_ he echoes. “ _You can’t ?!”_ His eyes flicker across her face. There has to be a trace of dishonesty somewhere. There has to be the shadow of a liar. Ravio’s fingers are so cold !

Ganondorf’s chest rumbles with a cough. “She doesn’t mean that he’s stuck that way. It’s not that she _can’t_ bring him back, Link. It’s just that she _won’t._ Anything is good leverage in a war, and she knows that.”

“ _She_ does,” Zelda confirms. “And _she_ is sorry that it has come to this. Had you two proven more receptive, none of this would have turned out this way. I’m afraid we’re simply unable to understand each other.”

“You’re still standing by that ?” He gives a rich laugh that sends his consonants rolling. “There’s no one left to hear it. It’s just the four of us now, and we all know the truth of the matter. You can stop making up lovely stories to justify massacres; we’ve heard enough.”

“Your attitude is appalling ! I have a role to fulfil as the Queen of Hyrule, and I fully intend to take up all responsibilities it involves. That includes doing what is best for my people. They don’t need to know everything – isn’t that how politics work everywhere ? Citizens cannot understand everything that’s going on behind closed doors. It’s up to the kingdom’s ruler to make the difficult decisions in the best interest of their population. How hard is that to understand ?!”

Link leans back onto his right leg and lets his arm drop to his side. Political conflicts are filled with much more chatter than he can concentrate on. He’s giving this his all, squeezing Ravio’s hand for focus, but the words still end up slipping away. All he’s left with is Zelda’s tone. It’s bothers him for a reason he’s close to understanding. She sounds convinced. She sounds…utterly persuaded. There’s something more…

“You forget,” Ganondorf’s tone rises, “that Hyrule is not confined to you little Hylians ploughing the bountiful fields and rolling around in the forest green grass. Wishing for Hyrule’s safety is wishing for the safety of all _Hyruleans !_ This includes the lands that you’re invading, ransacking and setting on fire for your own profits. The Zora Bay is a bloodbath ! My own homeland was the first under attack. You can’t use good morals to justify everything – I know you’ll try, but I won’t let it happen ! This is why we are standing here before you today, so we can put a stop to this tyranny you’ve decided to spring into place !”

“Can’t you see…?” Zelda despairs, and her hands form tight fists by her side. With every few words, they tremble with frustration. “Hyrule has been an utter and complete mess since the beginning of time. It was _created_ to be a mess, constantly destroyed and rebuilt every one hundred years. In the process thousands lose their lives in a meaningless war ! None of this has to happen – you understand that, right ? All Hyrule needs is stronger discipline, and stronger bonds. To prevent Ganon’s repeated ascend the whole kingdom must work as one. That has never worked once in the past when leaders were left to their own devices !”

He’s got it.

“So your solution is to chop off their heads ? Send them rolling down the streets of every capital ? There’s such a thing as diplomacy, though you might not have heard of it. I came seeking it, once. Instead you chose to lock me up and have your Hero killed ! And now you wail that it’s all for a better cause ?! _Bullshit !”_

She sounds honest.

She’s being honest. She believes it. She believes every word coming out of her mouth the way she believed in the tears she’d poured, during their very first conversations. She’s utterly driven. It’s terrifying.

Her eyes shimmer, and he can’t tell if it’s from tears or newborn light. “I’m trying to undo this curse !” she cries back, and for once, she no longer looks beautiful. Her lips twist and the tip of her nose reddens and she swallows helplessly. “By any means necessary, I’m trying to take action ! All you’ve done is get in my way…! Some things need to be broken so we can rebuild…”

“That,” Ganondorf shouts, “is too close to blasphemy than you can afford to go !”

“ _And I don’t care !”_ she screams, and twisting fingers tug and pull at her hair. “I don’t care about the goddesses or their so-called wisdom ! I have to do things myself, because I’ve _never heard a fucking word from them !”_

Light pours from her chest, where her piece of a greater whole has begun to shine. It’s so bright that Link is forced to shut his eyes, and even then, his eyelids are illuminated a blinding white. His feet scrape back against the carpet, and he briefly feels them slip backwards before he’s sent flying into the wall. He hits it with a loud thud and rolls across the ground. Pain blossoms in his ribs. Ravio, in his doll-like state, crashes down besides him and there’s little he can do to soften his fall. Something about the impact causes a snap – his legs buck, and his hands reach up to cradle his head. From underneath them comes a faint wail.

“ _Hey !”_ he mouths, leaning up on an elbow. It’s a futile attempt at communication; the air has filled with dust and spiralling cobwebs. The resulting mist is so thick that he can hardly see a few yards ahead. The white light has disappeared, but on the opposite side of the room, a purple haze pulsates gently. Link manages to crawl in Ravio’s direction, leaning against the wall for direction. His heart thumps noisily in his chest. What the hell was that…?

Ahead of him, something shifts in the dust. “Link ?” comes the Lorulean’s call, still faint and muffled. His hands are still pressed hard against his face, and even his breathing is stifled. When Link’s fingers close over his wrists, he allows them to be pried away and tries a wonky grin. “Hey there, handsome !”

 _“Nice try,_ ” Link replies with a half-hearted smile. There’s a cut on Ravio’s forehead, and the blood is running down between his eyes. The whole area around it is already red and hot under his fingers. He’s gonna be wearing a serious bruise for weeks. _“Are you OK ?”_

Ravio shrugs. “It’s nice to be back in control of my body. I don’t know what she did to me, but I’m not eager to…experience it again.” His shoulders jump with an excessive shiver. “Don’t know what she did just then, either. D’you think I could manage that too ?”

“ _I don’t wanna find out,”_ Link says, and his teeth grind noisily. His ribs are still throbbing, and he’s rewarded with a harsh stab of pain with every inhale. Whatever she did was brutal enough to take them all by surprise. He isn’t sure yet, but he thinks that might include herself, too. “ _Can you get up ?”_

As it turns out, he can, with a little help from Link and the wall. He coughs up a mouthful of dust and rests his shoulder against the wallpaper. Link catches his ankles trembling. They haven’t had nearly enough time to recover before throwing themselves into the fire again.

“Your bandages are coming off, Mr. Hero,” Ravio points out. He stumbles forward and reaches out to touch Link’s forehead. It throbs briefly, and he finds that the white spot covering part of his vision was not, after all, dust but a strip of bandage now hanging off Ravio’s finger. He lets it drop to the floor and wipes his face. “You’re in quite a state !”

_“So are you.”_

“That’s fair.”

“ _What a mess…”_

And he’s right. With every minute that passes, the air clears a little more. The dust is sucked away into the corridor and leaves them more room to see ahead. Flattened against the wall, both of them avoid being swallowed by the cloud in the centre of the room, and can give their surroundings a good long look. Not that there’s much to see – a bookshelf has crashed into the ground and snapped in two, spewing books all over the carpet. Sawdust rises from the wooden frame. Link suspects it isn’t the only one in such a sorry state.

Ravio tugs on his cloak twice and points at the opposite corner of the room. There’s a large crack running from the ceiling down into the dust cloud. From within it, purple light continues to wink in and out like a flickering candle. The sound is weak, but it’s accompanied by heavy breathing. It’s clear it isn’t Zelda’s. Whether that’s good or bad news, they’ve yet to discover.

“Where is she ?” he asks softly, voice slightly muffled. He’s retreated behind his scarf again. A wise move; Link is having trouble breathing through all the particles, and the pain in his chest isn’t helping. “Do you think she’s gonna blast us again ?”

“ _I’m not sure she meant to do it, but now she knows how to, she might try.”_ It isn’t exactly a reassuring thought, especially since they can’t find her in this mess. _“Let’s just stay close to the walls.”_

He closes his fingers over Ravio’s wrist and pulls him forward. The carpet, in its sullied steps, muffles their footsteps just enough. They steer away from the collapsed bookshelf and follow around the curve of the room. He doesn’t even notice the faint, mirror-shaped outline on the wallpaper when he shimmies past it.

His body goes on alone, and his ears pick on the opportunity to zone in and out, flickering at the tips with every noise. Mostly, it’s just them brushing against the wall, or each other – but every few steps, he catches a deep breath. Once, a whimper reaches him, but it’s gone before he can trace it. Zelda’s still in there somewhere. They just need to figure out where.

He nearly trips himself up when Ravio flings an arm in front of him to bring him to a halt. With tasteful gracelessness Link just keeps walking until he thumps into it, sending another spike of pain through his ribs. The Lorulean utters a quiet apology and steps ahead of him, still keeping his arm outstretched. He gives a directing nod towards the purple glow, now much closer than Link had noticed. He raises a hand and motions : _“Let’s just keep our distance.”_

There’s something in the hardness of his expression that suggests he’s not messing around, and from the way he’s fidgeting, it might have something to do with his Triforce. Link nods back and flattens himself against the wall again. Ravio follows suit.

“We could do with the Tornado Rod right about now,” he whispers. “Woulda cleared the air in under a minute. I don’t think we should get any closer until we can see where the light is comin’ from.”

Link rolls his eyes. “ _A sales pitch ? Now ?”_

“I’m serious, though. I’ve got a bad feeling about this, Mr. Hero.”

Uneasily, Link is forced to admit that so far, Ravio’s predictions no matter how vague have not been off the mark.

Heart beating hard against bruised ribs, he’s forced to do what he’s worst at : wait. Ravio standing in front of him, squeezing his hand back, certainly makes things a little easier on him, but patience and Link have never been friends. Tension does nothing to ease their relationship, and he finds himself more jittery than ever before, fingers jolting with spasms every few minutes. It takes all his strength to keep his teeth from chattering. Before them, the dust clears slowly.

Gradually, they start to make out colours – new ones that add onto the bright purple’s palette. Shapes are chiselled through the mist. The figure within it is kneeling, back bent all the way forward in a rough curve. The light moves when it moves. It raises an arm and waves it through the thick air cleanly. In the freed space, a face appears. It’s not quite grinning, but it’s close. And a little more pained.

“No need to look so frightened,” Ganondorf admonishes them. Whatever follows is half laugh, half cough. His throat gives a rumble, but he keeps his voice down. “I don’t bite.”

He looks like he always does, and Link allows himself a sigh of relief – he shuffles forward to join his friend, but once more collides with Ravio’s arm, raised once more. It stays firmly in place for a few more seconds before dropping. Deciding for once to heed someone’s advice, Link stays still.

“Quite a nasty blast she treated us to, wasn’t it ?” he continues quietly, dusting off his clothes with disinterest. The purple light is slowly fading, but just as it’s about to disappear, flares once more. Link realises it’s wrapped around his forearms and neck, embedded in or on his skin like swirling veins. The Gerudo runs a hand down his arms and returns Link’s gaze. “Oh, no need to be worried about this – or at least, I think so.”

 _“I’ve heard more reassuring pitches,”_ he signs, tilting his head to face him better. Ravio is still in the way, and very much unmoving. “ _What…is it ?”_

The young man shrugs and picks himself up off the ground – leaning against the wall with one hand, he does this almost silently. “Remember when her Lowness chattered about frightening reactions ? She was referring to this. I can understand why _she_ would be frightened of it, of course, but I believe we’re safe.”

“ _Right, but…”_

“It’s from your Triforce, right ?” Ravio cuts in. His eyes are locked upon the brightest of the marks, circling around the piece branded onto Ganondorf’s forearm. Within them, crimson shapes twist and turn in and out of existence, irregularly spawning bursts of red light. The marks move sluggishly around his arms and neck, brushing against his jawline.

“I assume it is. In the books, Ganon is always depicted surrounded by a purplish haze of swirling matter – I’d guessed it was just a metaphor for his evil powers, but apparently, the illustration was to be taken a little more literally.”

“So it’s a sign of its awakening, isn’t it ?” Ravio’s eyes follow the slow movements uneasily. His teeth clamp down onto his bottom lip and bite at the corner – he looks like he’s considering something uncertain. With the weight of the situation at its peak, Link can kind of understand. “Sorry if this is blunt, but are you sure you can control it ?”

It _is_ blunt, and Ganondorf rewards the question with a raised eyebrow and scalding look which nearly makes the Lorulean step back. His eyes, Link notices, are no longer golden but a deep red. They stay fixed on Ravio’s face just long enough to elicit a shiver from him (that almost runs up Link’s arm in turn) before dropping back down to the ground. They clear a little, which Link is thankful for. The crimson is making him uneasy.

“That’s a rather daring question,” the young man responds, and his tone betrays his amusement. “Also a little insulting, but you’re not from around here, and you don’t know my people, so I won’t take offense. You’re right to ask it, after all : I asked myself the same thing minutes before you gracefully made your presence known out in the corridor.”

“ _Is that the only time it’s manifested before ?”_ Link signs.

Ganondorf nods. “I know what carrying the Triforce of Power means, but the Gerudo are trained at a very young age, and one of the first thing children are taught is self-control. It’s a heavy burden to bear, but I’m never slipped up. I never _would_ have, had Zelda not decided to provoke me. She tried, in a way, to use me against myself.”

“ _And so far she’s failed.”_

“So far ?” he laughs, and lifts his head to smile at Link. “You should have more faith in me, my friend. As frightening as the power might be, it’s still part of me. It won’t act on its own. It has come out again only to protect me from her damned blast.”

“What _was_ that, by the way ?” Ravio puts in. He’s still tense down to his toes, and is chewing on the nails of his free hand. “Have you ever seen anything like it ?”

“I thought _you_ would have, since you’re another Wisdom bearer,” Ganondorf shrugs. “It’s new to me as well. What’s for sure is that she didn’t mean to do it, and she still hasn’t recovered.”

With those words uttered, his arm is outstretched, and through the clearing dust, he points.

The cloud in the centre of the room is almost gone, diffused through the smashed doorway and the glass panes high above their heads that have shattered where they stand. Pieces of glass cover the carpet. Both boys follow his gaze, and there at the end of it, crouched besides the broken bookshelf, sits the queen. Her arms are wrapped tight around herself, palm resting flat against her back. Blood is trickling down her dress from under it and dripping down the torn fabric.

All three of them look at each other, and with a decisive nod, step forward.

Link and Ravio make their way across the room side by side, both laying a ready hand on the hilt of their swords. The Hylian decides to draw his – his arm is aching, and the sensation is travelling down his body, stinging still unhealed wounds. It’s hot in his hand. Ganondorf walks behind them, cranking his neck left and right as he goes, giving his shoulders a roll – the marks on his skin glow brighter as they get closer. Broken glass and splintered wood crackle under their boots alike. Zelda’s ears flicker up, and she turns her head to face them. Her eyes are wide and nearly entirely white; what’s left of her irises are two faint golden rings that travel left and right and left again. Something drips down her chin and into her lap. On her chest, the Triforce burns.

“Don’t ! Don’t come any closer,” she warns them. One of her hands lifts to ward them off. Her eyes narrow again, and she gives each of them a long look. Her voice is barely shaking when she speaks again. “I’m quite serious.”

“ _So are we,”_ Link signs evenly. His throat is tighter than he cares to admit. “ _Tell the truth to everyone and it all stops here. Order all the knights back.”_

To be fair, she manages an astonishingly convincing sneer. “I’m afraid that’s not going to happen. Things are going too well for you three to waltz in and ruin it all – not this time.”

“I hope you’re aware of the fact that there are three of us, and one of you,” Ganondorf says. “We’re not going to get out of your way.”

“Yes, I’m aware.” She combs a hand through her hair to get most of it smoothed down and out of her face. There’s a smile at her lips that’s most frightening. “However, I’m not about to let you through. My predecessors stood by and watched the war through bars and glass, but I’ve been given the opportunity to do something more. Letting it go to waste would be… irresponsible.”

Ganondorf shrugs. “If you’re going to fight all three of us, you’d better start now.” The marks on his skin ripple and spit out; he takes a decisive step forward, the dark light travelling up and down his neck in time. Where Zelda’s irises have shrunk to nearly nothing, his dilate harshly, picking up the markings’ deep colour. Link steps aside and lets him through. There’s something in his appearance that makes him weak in the knees. “You’re not the only one who’s discovered something new within, and we won’t go easy on you.”

Link, who has yet to discover something new and spectacular within _him,_ grips the Master Sword’s hilt. The blade is displaying more than him – it has decided to do a little in his favour and glow gently, illuminating the thin dust still hanging around its edge. It’s a weak display, but he knows it’s a good sword. It’s saved his ass once already. He just hopes, standing between Zelda and Ganondorf, that it’ll be enough.

He gives his partner a side-glance and finds him as uneasy as before. Apparently unaffected by the tension, Ravio is attempting to bite off enough of his nails to draw blood (nasty habit – Link, of course, has it too). He’s looking neither at the Gerudo, nor the queen, not exactly : his eyes have locked onto her right hand. It’s resting harmlessly in her lap, as of now, but he follows its every tremble. His hand’s not even on his sword’s hilt anymore. While Hyruleans talked amongst themselves, he’s scooted closer and closed his fingers over the hem of Link’s cloak. Something about the sight of it makes his stomach churn – it’s like he’s seen it before, or is about to. Rine once taught him a word for that, but it’s lost to him now.

“Very well,” Zelda utters softly. She still hasn’t dropped her smile, and this time it’s wider. His eyes lose their focus on the sight. He can feel his legs collapse beneath him, and folds over himself just in time to greet the more brutal clench he’s ever felt in his gut. His teeth grind, letting only a quiet hiss travel through them. They’re fucked. They’re fucked, they’re fucked, they’re fucked….

“Then let’s ‘fight’, as you say.”

She raises her right hand. Ravio gives a cry and reaches for Link, and his fingers almost brush against him, almost reach his shoulder – he’s almost there, but not quite, not entirely, when the blast of light hits. It blinds both of them instantly, as it does Ganondorf, who stumbles back despite his preparation. The purple light condenses in front of him into a wispy shield that repels Zelda’s rays. He’ll be treated to something different. But both his companions fall backwards, eyes screwed shut and ears ringing, unprepared for whatever is to come next. And that is…

Absolutely nothing.

Ravio gives it one, two, oh, five or ten seconds before allowing his eyelids to crack open. He likes seeing, and would like to keep doing so for as long as possible; looking into Zelda’s light is like looking into the sun, and he has no particular envy to burn his retinas. He waits until the noise is gone, and until he stops rolling (this takes longer), and only then does he open his eyes.

The emergency and danger of the situation create a kind of build-up, and he’s rather drastically let down when he finds that there’s nothing of interest around him. He’s wound up in some sort of dark corner, shielded from the tall windows built all around the room. It’s musty and kind of stinks, but there’s no sign of immediate threat, which is good. There’s also no sign of Link, which is not so good.

“Today really is the worst,” he grinds his teeth, leaning on his elbows in an attempt to pick himself off the floor. His whole body is aching. He reckons he’ll be covered in bruises for months if this keeps up, a nice little something to add to his ever-expanding list of unattended injuries. The cut on his forehead, at least, isn’t bleeding anymore. Weird. He’d been expecting it to gush.

Okay. The situation is bad, but not as bad as it could be. He’s not, for instance, dead, which is a start. On top of that, he’d actually predicted that blast ! Maybe it’s time to trust his Triforce a little more. If he’d reached for Link a second earlier, they might not have gotten separated… There’s faith to be put in all the tingling sensations the mark on his knee offers. In which case, things are about to get worse.

Inventory. That’s something of Lurelei’s : when your plans go to mush and you don’t know where to go from there, you check what you already have, and what you can do with that. What he has right now is temporary respite and throbbing pain in his legs. There’s not a sound to be heard, not a single creek of floorboards. Wherever he’s rolled over to, it’s far from the action. What he _doesn’t_ have, and that’s the bit he’s worried about, is his sword. He didn’t even feel it fall out of its sheath, but it’s definitely gone. So is his bag, conveniently his only other source of weaponry. Oh, it’s fine. Things are peachy.

“Come on !” he tells his legs. They throb apologetically under him and make a huge effort to tense just long enough for him to stumble up. The wall he leans against is cold and soggy and, he finds, made of heavy stones. It’s almost like a cellar wall. His hand nearly slips off.

From his new viewpoint, he corrects a previous misconception : there _is_ a window, thank you very much, carved in between the stone bricks. It’s absolutely tiny and high above his head, but it illuminates his surroundings enough for him to make out the path ahead. A small corridor lies before him, paved in similarly slimy stone. This castle really was tastelessly built.

Ahead he goes.

“ _No !”_ he mouths, coming to a crashing halt into the nearest wall. His arms are still outstretched, aching from all the bumps they’ve been treated to. So many blows in so little time. He can still see the ghost of Ravio’s arms, reaching out for him. An inch. They’d missed each other by an inch, and now they’ve lost each other completely. He can’t even call out to him.

His head rings with the impact, ears twitching up and down with the echo travelling from one side of his brain to the other. That’s a nasty whack if he’s ever experienced one. One of his hands (the one that’s not trembling like it’s broken, still crushed under his chest) reaches up to touch the aching spot on his skull. He breathes a sigh of relief when it comes back dry and bloodless.

He regrets it rather immediately, because it sends him into a fit of vicious coughing that nearly drags him back to the ground. The second blast, much like the first, has caused sawdust and spiderwebs alike to crowd in the air. It stings both his lungs and his eyes. Even his mouth is left with a foul taste that saliva just won’t dilute. It reminds him of that soup Rine had made out of tree bark and moss, and tricked him into trying. The only difference is he hadn’t been in deathly danger, that time. Actually, thinking about it, he probably wasn’t too far away. There was a _lot_ of bark in that soup.

The blast has sent him flying into one of the taller walls, half covered in window panes. Most of those have shattered, leaving only little pieces of glass to cling to the frame. The dust is slowly making its way outside, dancing with the breeze. Link decides he’d do with a breath of clean air, and clambers up to his feet. His brain is doing a dance he’s not familiar with, thwacking into every inch of his skull, putting whatever feeble balance he has left on the line, but with help of the wall, he stands more or less stably. He pays no particular attention to the resulting cut on his palm, and leans in to look through the opening.

His eyes adjust – colours become shapes, that in turn become people. Some of them he recognizes. Others are new to him. Standing in the courtyard between two guards is that round lady he’d left Rine with. She’s holding a heavy brass pan in one hand and a butcher’s knife in the other. Jarred by the sight, his gaze wanders a little further, giving the rusty gears in his head time to slide back into place. The bright light and the yells of the crowd gathering outside are too much at once, and he nearly reels. He covers his ears with his hands.

Those people are fighting. There are hundreds of them, at least – he can’t see the end of the group, even beyond the broken gates. The knights are far outnumbered, and not holding back. He doesn’t have the time to look away and catches a women’s throat being sliced cleanly open. She drops to the ground quietly. He tries to swallow and finds that he can. This isn’t the right time to vomit, but he might. He just might. That image will just fuel his nightmares further, won’t it ?

He turns away from the window and rests his back against the cool surface, ignoring the glass pricking into his cloak. He feels sick; not for the first time he wishes he were home. This is beyond him. People are killing each other outside. People are fighting outside, but he suspects neither side knows exactly what for, just like Zelda doesn’t know, just like Ganondorf doesn’t know. _He_ doesn’t know either – so far his hand has been forced. And now that he has a choice, he’s going forward without knowing exactly why. If it’s to protect his home, he’s done a spectacularly pathetic job. What’s left is ashes, and people are dying outside.

As for Ravio, who knows ? He’s got a bigger heart than advisable. Maybe he’s fighting for peace, or for justice, or out of principle. Deep down, Link knows Ravio’s fighting for _him._ Somehow, this is the final blow that sends his shoulders a-shivering – he’s hurt, he’s scared, and he has no idea what he’s doing.

Outside, someone shrieks. He turns his head, but he doesn’t really need to. When things go bad, they have a tendency to keep getting worse. Who brings a child onto a battlefield ? he thinks weakly. Who would have such an idea ?

That voice is familiar. He really wishes it wasn’t.


	23. Chapter 23

“Will you kill me ?”

“That isn’t what I travelled here to do. It has never been my primary intention, even if it might have been yours. Can you understand that ?”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“If I have no other choices left, I suppose I will be led to.”

“Then we aren’t so different, are we ?”

“Perhaps so. Politics have always been dirty work.”

“Do you think _he_ will ? Do you think he can bring himself to ?”

This is one hell of a corridor.

He does remember rolling for a while, though, and the narrow passage would account for the numerous bumps to the noggin he received along the way. The floor is slinky and wet and the walls are overgrown with moss; an entire segment, beneath the tiny window, is covered in vines and sprouting small flowers. Between his painful ankle and the slippery water seeping between the paved stones, he’s surprised to still be standing. Another strange thing is that he still can’t see ahead.

Oh, he’s passed a few windows, and by few he means _three_ , which is absurd and a little insulting to the rest of the castle’s structure, frankly. From the outside, it had seemed tall and positively gleaming with glass – where Lorule Castle stands as an untouched monument, still bearing the pillars and stones placed there millenniums ago, its Hyrulean twin is modern and, from what he’s seen in the corridors, pompous. Now inside, he can only feel a little betrayed. Honestly ! Three windows. He’s been walking ahead for a full minute at least. They’re not even of use, and only illuminate a small square-shape on the ground. Whatever is ahead is completely invisible to him. What a festive adventure.

With so little light ahead, he’s assuming the passageway doesn’t lead into another corridor, nor even a room. As he goes, he keeps a hand pressed against the wall, touching the surface a little in front of him to prevent any surprises – he’s bruised enough as it is, and tripping over a step isn’t on his to-do list. By now his fingers are awfully slimy. He’d try and tease Link with all the gunk if the Hylian were around, but no matter how hard he listens, he can’t hear a trace of someone else’s presence. The silence is a little unnerving. He tries not to think about Sweetstone forest, and very purposefully ignores the shiver that runs down his arms every now and then.

His fingers slide forward. He lifts his foot automatically, too tired to process the lack of stone against his fingers, and the cold sting of the air on his palm. When he does realise, he puts his foot down harshly against the floor and grips the corner of the wall. He’s reached the end of his corridor, and ahead, the sound of his stamp echoes.

“Damn”, he says softly. He doesn’t hear the slam of wood against stone behind him. He won’t even turn around to look at the door that has shut behind him, nor will he question it – there’s something far more interesting ahead.

His sword sits there, sticking out of the ground.

It’s glowing gently in the darkness, casting light onto the droplets running off nearby tiles. They blend together into a thin stream that trickles over to his feet, twinkling merrily. The blade is trapped between two stones, only half of it still visible. He must, he tells himself, have lost it when he fell back, thrown away by Zelda’s attack. It must have fallen out of his sheath and landed there. It must have been an accident. His knee keeps itching, and no amount of scratching can quite make it stop.

The scene seems a little overly familiar.

He’s drawn to it the way he was the first time, almost pulled, close to pushed – he steps forward in time with its pulses of light. His eyes follow every shadow it casts, just in case one of them starts to move of its own accord. There’s no rational reason for them to, but everything has been going off the rails today, and besides, he feels like he’s being watched.

“Okay then !” he announces to the empty room, turning around on his heels to observe it whole. The sword’s glow bounces off the slimy walls. There’s no need to feel so tense; the action is going on somewhere else, and he needs to be there as soon as he can. No dark room is gonna intimidate _him_ today. He takes a decisive stroll towards the blade and wraps a hand around the hilt. Easy now. Come back to me, baby.

Of course, it stays right where it is.

He tightens his hold and pulls a little harder, but the blade doesn’t budge. He can feel his chest vibrate with the beginning of a groan, that eventually takes over his shoulders as well. First it’s from the effort – all the pulling is putting an awful lot of strain on his bruised arms – and then it’s from frustration, because goddamn, the sword won’t come out. It just sits there glowing between the two rocks. If it had a face, it would be grinning, and Ravio might actually punch it.

“You have got to be joking,” he tells it. “You’ve gotta.” But very clearly, it isn’t. It shifts a little when he kicks it, but in his grip it refuses to lift even an inch above its current position. In other words, it’s hopelessly stuck. The mark on his knee is burning into his skin, and gradually the aghast smile on his face is melting away. Link isn’t there this time, and he can’t work up a grin for a dark and empty room. The tense amusement slips right off his face, and leaves a frown in his wake.

Maybe he can try tilting it around. Maybe it’s just pressed too tight between the stones. The hilt is hot in his hands, hot enough to cause him to pull the back and hug them to his chest. The sparks of pain on his fingertips impishly travel up his hands. The fucker blistered his fingers ! Part of his gloves have dark burn marks borne into them as well.

It’s something Link had said. He’d told that story before, to him, maybe to Hilda – the story about how he’d proven Yuga wasn’t worthy of the sword, and had saved his own life with one blow. The hilt had burnt his hands to the bone; he’d been unable to hold it, must less _lift it._ Oh, he hates this. He hates this very much. The sensation of vines tightly wound around him, digging in too deep, is still to vivid.

He stares at the sword and the sword stares at him. The room has gotten colder. For once he wishes he didn’t have to think so hard about everything, but the Triforce of Wisdom leaves no room for ignorance – it’s something that has worn Zelda down, too. He knows why he can’t hold his sword, and he knows why there are shivers running down his spine. It just doesn’t want him anymore.

It’s changed its mind.

And that’s all the room wants him to know, and it tightens around him, like the walls are somehow sliding forward, closer to him. The ceiling looks closer, too, doesn’t it ? He could reach up and brush his fingers against it. The tips are trembling faintly, and despite his concentration, he can’t get them to stay still. He feels sick and cold; his stomach has turned to lead and sunk down as far as it can go, weighing on him heavily. His Triforce, too, cools down, and the light peeking out from under his woollen socks disappears. It’s snuffed out. Still, he can’t help but keep wondering. What is it he’s done ? Or, perhaps, what is it he hasn’t ? Why reject him now ? Why push him away ?

Why ?

But he’s done this once before, he realises, and the walls seem to retreat. He’s been fooled once before, and put to the test – funny thing is, he’s succeeded. He watches the stone bricks crack, pierced by rays of light that all converge at his feet. It’s all well-crafted. He could have fallen for it, but the past month has prepared him too well. He’s gotten out of some tough spots, with Link by his side, he’s found some motivations within his fears and stepped far, far away from home, but most of all he’s found a purpose within this mess. He’s proven himself already, and he has bruises to show for it. He’s done this before. This sense of not belonging is a weakness that he’s leaving behind.

There’s no rational answer to the question, because its setting itself is outdated. A few weeks ago, he might have snapped, but Zelda is running late. His grin finds its way back onto his face, and settles to stay. There’s no such thing as being worthy. People choose their own fates.

He closes his eyes. When he opens them again, he finds Link.

Rine’s face is bloodstained. He tries to take comfort in the fact that it isn’t her blood, at the very least. It’s splashed all over her cheeks and drips down her chin, a drop at a time, every time she bobs her head. Right now, she’s clinging to the lady’s skirts and searching the castle’s façade – she’s probably looking for him. If she would just look up a little, their eyes might meet.

The guard standing in front of them drops down with a resounding crash, and rolls onto his back. His armour has been sliced neatly in two, and blood is bubbling out of the wound. Both he and Rine reach up to cover their mouths. The sight of it has had him besides himself, recently. It’s because of all those nightmares…

The woman drops her pan (twisted at the handle, covered in something slimy and pink) and picks up the little girl with her newly freed hand. She swings her over her shoulder, not unlike Link had, back home. Rine doesn’t look frightened; her eyes are wide and her mouth still slightly open, lip trembling, but she’s holding together. She’s strong, but he’ll never forgive the woman for taking her along.

 _Here !_ he wants to shout out to her. Instead he leans out of the window and does his best to shake his arms without cutting himself on the broken glass. He waves out into the courtyard and thumps his fist into the wall and goes as far as to throw a pane of glass out onto the cobblestones. It makes a deafening sounds that bounces off the castle’s walls and shrieks past his ear. No one looks up.

“ _For fuck’s sake !”_ he mouths ungracefully, and watches the woman run forward, avoiding a knight’s very sharp-looking halberd. He roars and tries to chase after her, but fails to pivot and crashes down into the still body of one of his companions. By the time he gets back up, they’re out of reach.

The tips of his ears flicker anxiously. From his spot, the roars of the crowd have become murmurs, a background static of shouts that don’t quite reach him. How he’d heard Rine’s cry in that mess he’ll never know – it’s loud enough to cover the sound of a windowpane breaking, down there. On his side of the wall, however, there’s no noise. No noise at all. Other than his breathing, he can’t detect a thing. Not even a grumble or a shift. The room is bare and, putting him aside, completely empty. Zelda seems to be gone, and has taken Ganondorf along. He has a bad feeling about them being split up.

Outside, another villager bites the dust for the last time. There’s a dark stain spreading through the clothing on his back, that matches in shade the droplets running down the nearest guard’s blade. Behind his helmet, tall and mute, the man stands there and watches death wash over his victim. He joins his hands together, mutters something, and disappears back into the crowd. How can he kill like that and step away unwavering…? What makes his dedication worth it ?

His eyes scan the crowd for Rine again, and find her by the castle’s entrance. She’s alone. Her protector seems to have vanished, or perhaps dropped dead along the way – no amount of scrutiny can locate her. The little girl’s clothes, he notices, have ended up ripped up and unthreaded. Laine will most likely throw a fit, if they all make it back alive. Gripped by this thought, he forces himself to swallow and follows her movements. There’s no one in her way, and she runs with frenzy he’s rarely seen in her. She makes it to the door and grabs the heavy knob; her heels dig into the ground with effort that finally pays off when the heavy wood is pulled her way. She looks up, bright-eyed, and –

She loses her smile.

The door, she realises, at the same time as Link, had not given in to her tenacious tugging. It has been pushed forward, from the inside, and doesn’t stop opening even when she lets go of the handle. The side of it hits her harshly in the head and sends her staggering down the few marble steps. Unconsciously, Link’s hand finds itself gripping onto his sword’s hilt. He doesn’t even remember taking it out of his sheath; besides, it’s not much use now.

Their eyes widen in the same way, at the same time, it’s probably a family thing, who knows. First a boot steps out of the doorway. It’s followed by a leg, and a torso, and soon a full body gleaming all over in the sunlight. Hadn’t it set ? He thought it had, but there it is, shining bright off the knight’s full armour. He’s followed by two others, and together they tilt their heads down and look at the little girl sitting on the cobblestones, arms and knees bruised blue. For a moment he has hope, somewhere within him, some kind of ever-shining faith, but the knight draws his sword after all. Rine whimpers.

The scene slows down. He leans back as if pushed, and finds that his hands no longer reach through the air. There’s glass in the way, pressing against his palms. He can’t make it out, but it won’t budge, and on its other side, time is thinning out. The knights are completely still. The mob has frozen in place, pitchforks and frying pans held at an arm’s length alike. And he, too, finds himself locked in place, forced to listen to the loud thump of his heart resounding inside his skull. It’s absolutely sickening. His stomach churns.

He’s stuck.

His body won’t obey him – his arms won’t rise, his legs won’t straighten, his head won’t turn. Everything feels to heavy to hold, like he’s being crushed from the inside. His hands are still flat against the barrier separating him from the outside world. Feeling his gut clench more painfully than ever yet, and unable to even crouch to bear it, he’s forced to admit that there’s nothing he can do. His will is being ignored. His legs turn to lead and drag him down, causing his forehead to thump into the wall along the way. He doesn’t have the strength to get up and fight – this time it’s beyond him. No amount of screaming can get his muscles to function. Briefly, he thinks a bitter thought : he shouldn’t have come here at all.

He forces his head up and peeks out of the window. In the centre of the mob stands a man staring right at him. Link recognises him, and starts to think he might be going mad. The man stands with his insides half hanging out, dripping blood onto his boots. His eyes are as wide as in Link’s nightmares, and a thousand times more haunting. This is the final blow that sends him down to his knees, the taste of vomit filling his mouth.

Outside time crackles and spits back into its norm. Through the glass he hears the screams of the crowd, and the clang of metal against metal, and Rine’s cries. The man is howling from his spot in the midst of the fight, with not a care in the world for anything else. Link wishes he could cover his ears, or at least cry to cover the noise, but the crowd’s chants and shouts merge into a rowdy rhythm as they advance, and the tune is almost joyful. It makes Link’s chest tingle, and the emotion it triggers, he thinks, is hope. Rine doesn’t scream – rather she yells out a warrior’s cry. Outside no one is giving up, because they’re clinging to their ideals. It’s the one thing he’d thought he was missing.

But no longer.

What is he fighting for ? His head feels lighter, and allows him to raise it towards the window once more. He remembers the pulsating fear of having a blade held against his neck, back against a tree with nowhere to run. Beneath him, his legs straighten. Oh, the relief of finding Ravio injured and bleeding, but alive. He manages to stand, and thinks about Rine’s bright smile, when she’d run into his arms. In the courtyard, Hylians fight tooth and nail in a happy cacophony.

Zelda only remembers his doubts – she’s too late to count on them, now. She hasn’t had the chance to find out why he’s returned. It’s not a very thought-out reason, but he feels it might be fitting of his ancestry. He fights for no reason other than to stay alive, and to make sure others can as well. If there’s one thing his journey has taught him, it’s that no one should die at someone else’s hand. It’s taken him a while, but now he knows that ideals don’t need to be complicated, or warped. They don’t even need to be political. Sometimes, they’re selfish. Sometimes, that’s OK. The trick might have worked, a month ago. Now is a little late.

He rams the hilt of his sword into the glass, sending it plummeting down two floors. Then he grips the window frame and jumps out of the opening. He shuts his eyes tight, and when he opens them again, he finds Ravio.

“Hello again, Mr. Hero.”

And Ravio gives him that bright grin again, the one that lights up his whole face and makes his nose scrunch up just a little, and he’s never been more glad to see it. For a moment, he’s unsure of what to do – his heart is still banging against his ribs with adrenaline, knees bumping into each other when he breathes out – but the Lorulean opens his arms just a little and he’s already throwing himself forward, nearly tackling him. He doesn’t need to think about it, anymore. If there’s one thing that’s unwavering, it’s Ravio, and the warmth he provides. He melts into his hold and hooks his chin over his shoulder, finally catching his breath. He hears him let out a shaky sigh, and decides to squeeze him just a little harder. He’s rewarded with a quiet laugh.

“Did you get treated to a test as well ?”

He nods. Ravio laughs softly again – Link’s hair tickles his neck every time he moves.

“Outdated, wasn’t it ?”

“ _Old bullshit,”_ he mouths with much grace. Suddenly, he’s feeling exhausted. He finds himself nearly buckling over, but pushes his weight back onto his feet when his knees knock into Ravio’s. They’re trembling weakly. His are too, he notices.

“Still, for a second there, I…” His companion trails off, stiffening in his arms. “Hey, what happened to _that ?”_

Reluctantly, Link leaves the warmth of his hug to stand besides him, ignoring to the best of his ability the insistent tug in his chest. Soon enough it’s out of his mind, and he sees exactly what Ravio has noticed : the room’s lowest window, spreading across a hole pan of the wall, has a gaping hole in its midst. Broken glass panes converge towards the centre, and clinging to one of them is a piece of white shawl. It’s Zelda’s, he recalls, and it’s shining just enough to project a shadow onto the discarded glass fragments on the carpet. Both of them realise as one that the room is quite empty, save for them – their ally and their foe have both vanished.

In their brief search, they’ve wandered a few feet away from each other; now they turn back and join in the room’s centre. Ravio’s hand wraps around his wrist.

“What if this is just another one ?”

He slips his fingers between his partner’s and tilts his head. Through the broken windows comes the sounds of faint shouts. “ _You mean another illusion ?”_

“If it isn’t, where did they go ? Isn’t it weird ?”

And he has to agree – the crowd’s reminiscent yells certainly don’t help – but the pain is back in his ribs whenever he breathes too deeply, and there’s something soothing about having the evening sky back. Ravio’s hand, warm against his palm, doesn’t feel like it’s another trick. The Lorulean, a hand carefully laid on top of his sword, seems to recognize this too. When Link makes his way over to the window, he lets himself be pulled along with no protests.

Both of them lean in, taking care not to cut themselves, to peer into the yard. Link nearly jumps back - there _is_ a mob out there, and he recognises faces from his recent hallucination. That round lady he’d left Rine with is running across the yard, but her hands are empty and the little girl is nowhere to be seen. The whole group that had been standing in front of the gates earlier is spread out, slipping between the hands of clearly outnumbered guards. The sight almost rips a smile out of him. From this height, they look like shiny ants, changing direction every few feet. They’ve got a dozen of them up in shackles, but so far, it doesn’t look like they’ve actually injured a single villager.

“Hah !” Ravio grins, slipping his arm in between two glass shards to point down. “Looks like the army’s given up !”

“ _That’s Hallan, isn’t it ? Zelda’s guard ?”_

The man is standing on the side-lines, his back resting against the prison’s concrete walls. He’s got his arms crossed and his eyes closed – _if I didn’t see it, I can’t be entirely responsible for it_ – one of his hands resting over his chest. By his side, a couple of knights have already collapsed and decided to take a rest from the race. There’s a pile of discarded swords besides the leader. Maybe, Link figures, the kingdom isn’t as far gone as it seems. The bloodbath of his illusion is wiped from his mind.

Ravio sticks his head outside and takes a deep breath. Eyes closed and lips smiling, he looks like he’s grateful for fresh air. The room is a little stuffy from all the sawdust, but it’s probably got something to do with his own spell-induced hell. Hopefully, they’ll get to talk about it later.

“ _That’s one thing less to worry about,”_ he signs, retreating back inside. He pulls tiny glass shards off his cloak and dusts it off. “ _The villagers are safe, at least. We should try and find Zelda and Ganon– hey, Ravio ?”_

Obviously, his gestures are useless – the young man has his back to him and seems to be craning his head further out of the window. Link drops his hands and lets them bump against his legs weakly. He steps back towards him to tap him on the shoulder, but Ravio catches his hand before it can even make contact with him and tugs on it.

“There’s somethin’ happening !”

“ _Huh ?”_

“Come look,” the Lorulean tells him impatiently, and tugs on his hand again. “Everyone’s gatherin’.”

Even through the cracked pane, Link can tell. Villagers skid to a halt and huddle together, forming a crowd at the edges of the courtyard. Knights stop their endless chase and join them. All have their heads craned up and are staring intensely at something above their floor; Ravio’s shifting has proven successful enough for him to wiggle onto the windowsill and gaze above their heads. His mouth forms a small o. He grips the window frame and tries to tilt his torso further out of the building; he only ends up slipping backwards, straining his arms. Link grabs his legs and holds them tight in place, sicking his head out to investigate himself. From his position, he can’t see very much, other than Ravio’s scarf. Oh, and a little bit of sky.

“ _What is it ?”_ he mouths, pulling on the wool to get the boy’s attention. He feels like he’s missing something big, and it’s immensely irritating. Frowning, he pulls on both ends of the scarf again, earning an exaggerated gag from his partner. “ _Oi ! What’s everyone lookin’ at out there ?”_

Ravio gives him a grimace. With a graceless kick (that hits Link right in the gut), he signals his return to the inside world and with a little help slips over the broken glass and back into the room. “I’m not really sure if it’s good news or bad news yet, but it’s definitely noteworthy !”

“ _What is ?”_ Link repeats _again._ From the look on Ravio’s face, the kick he’s delivered to the shin is unfair and cruel, but frankly, it’s well-deserved.

“You’re so very impatient, Mr. Hero ! I’m trying to think at the same time. Everyone’s looking up at the roof right now, because there are people on it and it doesn’t look like they’re intendin’ to have a picnic. Can you guess who ?”

At this point, he’s hardly surprised. “ _Zelda and Ganon.”_

“Correct ! You see, you’re not as far out of the loop as you thought.”

“ _So Zelda and Ganondorf are on the roof.”_

“Sure seems so. It could be another illusion, I guess – she’s a master of those – but if the villagers are seeing it, it’s gotta be pretty far spread. Honestly, I think it’s genuinely them up there.”

“ _No better place for a duel,”_ Link comments, thinking not for the first time that all of this is far beyond him.

“Are we nearly there yet ?”

Rine’s not complaining. She’s a well brought-up girl, polite and good-mannered and all. She wouldn’t dare. It’s just a little stuffy under the man’s cloak – it’s heavy and so dark that she has no idea what’s happening around her. She keeps bumping into his leg whenever they come to a stop, and her nose is starting to hurt from the impacts. She’s grateful to have been taken along, but her comfort isn’t really optimal.

The man has the nerve to chuckle at her. His voice is rich and gentle, and reminds her of her grandfather. It’s one of the things that has made him so easy to trust.

“We are,” he tells her. “Sorry for the slow progress, but if anything were to happen to you, I’m rather sure your brother would be very upset.”

“I know,” she replies, but honestly, she disagrees. Link won’t be upset – he’ll be furious, and not only at them. As far as he’s aware she’s safe and sound in a little cottage, not in the castle’s courtyard in the middle of the crowd. What can she say ? She loves to surprise him.

The man taps her shoulder gently, and lets his cloak fall open a crack. She peers through it, eyes adjusting to the light. “You see that door, right ahead ?”

She nods.

“We’re going to run for it. And by that I mean I’m going to let you out from under there and ask you to run as fast as you can to keep up with me. If anyone goes after us, I’m the one they’ll try to stop. You go ahead and get inside, alright ? If everything is going according to plan, Milo will be inside. You can both look for your brother. Understood ?”

“Yep.”

“Sharp girl. I hope your legs are as fast as your mind. I’ll count to three, and we’ll set off. Ready ?”

She pushes her hair out of her eyes and nods again. “Always !”

“Alright. Then let’s start. Three… two… ONE !”

She’s off before he is, pushing past the thick cloth and into the open. She’s expecting people to be in the way, but the path is completely clear – focused on sprinting forward, she pays it no mind. Quick like a fox and sure-footed like a wolf ! If she could outrun Link in the woods, she can outrun a couple of old geezers in heavy armour.

Actually, no one seems to be going after them, and the man soon catches up with her. He gets to the door first and pulls it open for her; she runs through the opening and into the hallway, her sandals sliding against the carpeted floor. The friction brings her to a halt. The man closes the door behind both of them. She takes a second to catch her breath.

“Milo,” the man says, and steps towards the staircase. The Hylian leader is sitting cross-legged on the first step, and raises a hand in greeting.

“Hey there.” He peers over the man’s shoulder and gives Rine a smile. “And you too ! I’m glad you’re safe and sound.”

“It wasn’t a hard journey,” the man replies. “I wasn’t expecting the army to give up so fast.”

“Neither did I,” Milo shrugs, and leans on the banister to get back on his feet. “The ministers who fed us info didn’t seem to be aware of any doubt or unrest within the ranks, but I guess morals end up catching up with anyone, even Hallan.”

“We should be thankful, and use the opportunity to find the hero as soon as possible, for our sake as well as the little lady’s.”

“Right you are ! There’s been a lot of noise on the second floor. I suggest we start there, and work our way up.”

“Up ?” Rine quips in. The man looks at her and shrugs.

“Why up ?”

Milo hops down the few steps and gestures towards the window. “I’m just guessing, but I’d say everyone stopped to look at something interesting.”

Rine can’t see very much, but a few steps up, her view of the courtyard clears. The crowd, knights and villagers alike, is staring up at something. Even Miya is there, at the very front. Seeing her look scared is jarring.

“The roof ?”

“Possibly. In any case, we should get going. Shall I lead the way ?”

“We’ll be right behind you, Milo.”

He takes Rine’s hand, and she’s very thankful for it.

“Sir ?” the knight whispers. “Two villagers have just gone in. Is it truly alright to let them through…?”

Hallan gives a slow nod, one that causes his armour to clink loudly in the overwhelming silence. No one dares speak, and he understands why. This is far from the stories they’ve been read as children – for him, his whole career has been, but this point is the climax. He’s made a decision he won’t go back upon, and for which he takes entire responsibility. He’s let the rebels through, and it’s the first time he’s disregarded an order. Funnily enough, it doesn’t seem to matter very much anyway.

“Let them be,” he tells the knight. “I think more important things are unfolding.”

Above them, the queen and the scourge battle on.

“ _You’re serious?”_

“Absolutely dead serious, Mr. Hero, and that’s something you don’t hear every day from someone like me.” Ravio drops his head back onto his forearm, and Link is ninety percent sure it’s at least partially to hide his grin. Both of them are sitting at the foot of the wall, leaving the broken window behind them. Only the howl of the wind reaches their room.

“ _Ravio, we can’t climb through the window and onto the roof !”_

“But we have to !” he exclaims, slapping his thigh as he speaks. “We can’t let Zelda and Ganon fistfight it out on their own up there. Didn’t we promise we’d take her on together, and not get all split up ?”

He rolls his eyes. “ _You’re aware that the roof is much higher than the windowsill, right ? If we fall, we definitely end up with broken necks at least. Surely there’s an alternative !”_

“Come on ! I can tell you don’t believe that for a second.”

Behind his crossed arms, Link pouts. He hasn’t climbed anything higher than a tree, but he’s fairly sure he could…

“Admit that you kind of want to. I can tell !”

“ _That’s an unfounded assumption,”_ he huffs, and turns his head away. Partly, it’s because he needs the space to think – mostly, it’s because Ravio is right, and can read it right of his face. Inactivity has made him jittery again. Not knowing what the hell is going on certainly does its bit, too. The idea of getting up there is attractive. As for the mortal danger, well… they’ve been there before.

“I know you think that at least one of us needs to be reasonable, but we’ve gotten this far, haven’t we ?” The Lorulean shifts onto his knees and works on prying Link’s arms off of his face. Soon realising that tensing up won’t save him, he lets him. “It’s all a bit over our heads, but we can still do our bit. Personally, Zelda’s little trick woke me right up ! It’s definitely one hell of a situation, but we’ve been there and done that, right ?”

“ _Me too,”_ Link mouths. His eyes are locked with Ravio’s, and they strike him as overwhelmingly green, greener yet than before; maybe it’s because the room is dark, and they’re gleaming bright. He didn’t like green, but it’s grown on him recently. He still wouldn’t wear it, but the sight of it makes him feel warmer – or maybe, of course, that’s just Ravio. Grinning against his will, he shuts his eyes a moment to focus. “ _Fine. Our instincts generally turn out alright. But can I ask you something, before we go and throw ourselves into extreme danger ?”_

“It had better be quick !” the young man replies, but even his voice is smiling.

_“What was your illusion ?”_

“Well…” Link opens his eyes again to find his partner has scooted back and retrieved his arms to wrap them around his knees. His fingers tap over the spot on his sock which conveniently hides his Triforce. It’s glowing bright enough to show through the wool. “I’m guessing yours played on your insecurities too, right ? In the hallucination, I was in a dark room, and I’d lost my sword. When I found it, it was stuck in the ground and I couldn’t pull it out. O’ course, it’s something I’ve beaten myself up about a lot in the past. Not anymore, obviously – thanks to your hard work, Mr. Hero. But Zelda doesn’t know that, so she tried to crush me with it.”

Link nods. The night air is getting colder, and with half of his cloak practically shredded, he doesn’t have much to bundle up in. He moves closer to Ravio, closing the small distance he’d created between them. _“She’s like that, I’ve heard.”_

Ravio gives a shrug, and his grin makes its appearance once more. “It didn’t work for long, anyway ! I know now that some old tale doesn’t made me worthy or unworthy, but the reminder is always nice. That’s why I think we should be up there right now ! It would be nice to show her that everything isn’t as set in stone as she thinks !”

“ _It would,”_ Link muses. He thinks back to the deaths and the fighting from his own hallucination, and now to the calmness in the courtyard. His fighting spirit has been given a poke, too. Life is worth pushing for, even if that means climbing onto a roof. “ _I mean, it will be.”_

“If we survive the climb, of course.”

“ _You really had to ruin the mood, huh ?”_

“The word you’re looking for is ‘lighten’, Mr. Hero,” he laughs. He stretches out his legs and throws his arms back in a stretch, offering a loud yawn as a side dish. “This is all pretty serious business, after all ! Shall we go ?”

Link gives a nod. “ _Let’s at least start climbing from the third floor.”_

“A wise idea !” Ravio clambers up to his feet, shifting his weight onto his least injured ankle. He holds out his hands and Link takes them gladly. Through a combination of pulling and groaning, he manages to help him off the ground and into a semi-standing position – good enough ! He dusts off Link’s cloak, pulling at the shredded edges, and grins. “Back to the stairs we go !”

But Link doesn’t let go of him just yet, and this time he needs no outcry to get him to stay and turn to him once more. He’s not completely sure what’s going to come out of his mouth, but it seems like Ravio knows, somehow. His grin melts into an expecting smile.

“ _One last thing…”_

“Well, it’s not like we’re in a rush, right ?”

Ravio doesn’t really stop laughing even when he’s unceremoniously smacked in the arm. Link can’t find it in him to look reproachful, and lets his good mood infect him.

_“Your good luck charm from earlier on didn’t work very well, did it ?”_

The Lorulean puffs. “You’re not dead, are you ? It worked well enough !”

“ _Still…”_ Link trails off, scratching the back of his head.

“There’s no ‘still’ about it !” he tells him as sternly as he can. Considering how his eyes are twinkling, this truly isn’t very much. “Didn’t I tell you earlier that you could just ask for things directly ?”

 _“I am !”_ Link protests, and threads his fingers through the wool of Ravio’s scarf. Somehow, that thing is always warm. _“I’m asking for a little more luck, because this is the climax of our adventure, right ? Our last task, if everything goes well.”_

“I guess you’re right about that…” The Lorulean stops Link’s fidgeting, grabbing both his hands with his own. If they keep messing around with the fabric, they’ll make a hole in the wool. Link’s fingers relax under his palm, allowing him to thread them with his again. “Both of us are gonna need a load of luck, this time.”

With that said, he leans in and leaves a warm kiss on Link’s lips.

Of course, the young man turns alarmingly red – first a pinkish colour around the cheeks, that then flares right up when he realises what’s just happened – but there’s a relieved smile on his face that’s reassuring to see.

“ _Thank you,”_ he signs. _“I feel much better now.”_

“That’s just like you, Mr. Hero,” Ravio chuckles, adjusting his scarf around his neck. It’s not particularly necessary, right now – despite the wind, he’s feeling warm enough. “I feel more confident, too.

“ _Now we can be off. Let’s get up there as fast as we can !”_

One hand still linked with his partner’s, Link makes for the door, pulling him behind him as he goes. He’s surprised by how calm his heartbeat it, but no matter how hard he thinks about it, he only feels serene. Ravio shouts something about his arm aching, and does a little sprint to catch up with him, and there’s something about the way he laughs that’s comforting as well. They run down the corridor, and this time, they don’t trip up.

“The important question is… who’s going through the window first ?”

“ _Oh, that definitely won’t be me. Why don’t you ? It was your idea !”_

“Me ? So much for that Courage of yours !”

 _“Well, if you’d come up with a_ wiser _suggestion…”_

“My Triforce Senses are telling me you’re about to get shoved down the stairs, Mr. Hero !”


	24. Chapter 24

“There’s nothing around here !” Milo shouts out.

Rine, perched on the steps leading up to the third floor, huffs loudly enough for the Hylian next door to catch it. He pokes his head out of the doorway and attempts an appeasing smile, but it’s too tense around the edges to be genuine.

“I know this must be stressful for you,” he says, “but I can promise you we’ll find him eventually. It might just take us a little time. This place is a mess.”

She’s been instructed to stay on the staircase, considered the safest spot for now – there are piles of unconscious knights strewn across the path, but none of them are showing any signs of waking up. If that eventuality arises, she is to scream as loud as she can, which is easy enough. She’s not allowed into the rooms, and can tell that her status of watcher is only an excuse to keep her away.

“Can’t I look with you ?” she calls out for the fifth time. “If it’s so slow, my help could make it quicker !”

From the room across the corridor comes a rich laugh. “I know sitting down isn’t thrilling, but you’re far more comfortable over there ! Milo isn’t lying. Someone’s wrecked the place.”

That, she can tell. The man is working his way through a room she can see into. Its doors are open, but closing them would change little, seeing the enormous hole cutting right through the wood. The room’s inside is in a similar state. From what she can make out, half of it is barred off by a huge bookshelf that’s crashed onto the floor. Pieces of wood are sticking out, pointing towards the ceiling. The floor is covered in dust. Her mother would have a breakdown if she were to see it.

“Can’t you just give him a shout ?”

“And what would he do, shout back ?”

Rine gives him a death glare so glorious that it sends him retreating behind the wall.

“More seriously,” the man says, “we can’t rely on calling him. We have to consider the possibility that he’s unconscious or injured.” He catches her face scrunching up and waves a pacifying hand. “It’s just safer to do it this way, to make sure we don’t miss him. You shouldn’t worry.”

Crossing her arms over her chest, she gives him a little shrug. There are goosebumps all over her arms again, and she half wishes Ravio had left her his scarf.

He steps out of the room – narrowly avoiding a sharp piece of wood hanging off the door hinges – and starts working on ridding his clothes of dust. It looks like a rather big task.

“That’s the last one on this floor. Milo, are you done ? We need to investigate the third floor right away.”

“Hold on…” comes the Hylian’s voice. Both the man and Rine tilt their bodies towards the door. She hops off her step and joins him at the doorstep, carefully stepping over a guard’s lanky arm spread across the carpet. Milo is crouching by the window, both hands on its frame. “Oh dear.”

The man offers her a tanned hand; she takes it and runs across the room. At first she can’t see a thing, just the courtyard and its crowd. Funny, they’re kind of agitated, aren’t they ? The first rows are stepping forward, craning their heads to stare at the rooftops across from them. There’s some pointing, some shouting, and definitely some surprise. Miya’s mouth is half open, and she doesn’t look ready to close it.

“We’re a little late, I’m afraid,” Milo says. He points out at the building’s skyline, and her eye catches the cause of all the unrest, all the way across the yard. They were looking in the wrong wing. On the very right side of the castle, clinging to the rooftiles for dear life, is a blond figure she can recognise even from this distance. He pushes up against the window beneath him and throws his leg over the roof’s edge. Underneath him, sitting on the windowsill with his back to the courtyard, is his Lorulean twin. So much for keeping him _safe !_

The man puts a hand on her shoulder and squeezes. He’s able to feel to which extent she tenses up in preparation, before yelling :

“That IDIOT !”

“You’re gonna fall ! Oh, oh god, you’re – no, no, you’re okay. The wind is our ally ! Just a little more, and YOU’RE FALLING, LINK, I can see you fallin’ back…!”

“ _I’m NOT falling !”_ he roars over the wind. Ravio can’t read his lips from this angle, it just makes him feel better. “ _We’re fine. I’m almost there.”_

Beneath him, the young man whimpers. “I take it all back. This was an utterly terrible idea. The ground just looked much closer from the second floor, you know ?”

Oh, it definitely did, which is why Link is not looking down. His eyes are fixed on the part of the roof he can see, and that’s where they’re stayin’. At this height, even tilting backwards to look around would prove fatal. He can almost hear the sound of his own bones snapping. Fighting back a shiver, he braces himself for the next blast of wind to hit. His heart is beating loud enough to cover the chattering of his teeth, which, he agrees, is very convenient. Taking a deep breath, he pushes hard on his left foot and pulls his leg over the roof.

He’s so surprised to have succeeded that he nearly slips right off, but instincts kick in and his fingers grab for the metal rail just ahead. He manages to drag himself onto his knees, a safe few feet away from the edge. No looking down ! His head already feels like it’s spinning.

“Alright up there, Mr. Hero ?” Ravio calls.

Sticking his head out would be his undoing. Instead, he gives the empty air beyond the roof a thumbs up. Ravio lets out the most ridiculous of relieved sighs. This soon turns into gross choking noises when Link points downwards right at him, an unwanted reminder that it’s his turn to waltz.

“Oh, here we go,” he moans. “This is goodbye, Link. I’m gonna slip off and paint the courtyard a whole new colour.”

“ _Wow,”_ Link mouths. Nice phrasing.

Unfolds a struggle which he misses most of from his spot – he can’t see a thing that’s going on beneath him, and spends the best part of it staring at Ravio’s hands clasped over the edge of the roof. Every so often, they tremble and the young man lets out a series of laments, but they never quite slip off. When both of his forearms are laid flat against the roof, Link reaches out to grip his wrists and help him all the way up. Once his head pokes over the first row of tiles, Ravio’s fingers close around the guardrail and he manages to crawl up, looking remarkably pale.

“ _Are you OK ?”_ Link signs, trying not to look amused. Ravio’s shaking like he just climbed a mountain, and looking extremely distressed about it.

“I,” he tells him, lifting one of his hands up to point into his face, “am never doing that again, ever.”

With those heavy words pronounced, he collapses forward into Link’s lap and lies there, wiggling as far away from the roof’s edge as possible. With a look of defiance, he screws his eyes shut and even throws an arm over his face. An understandable reaction; they’re high enough that the crowd look like coloured dots. The increasingly poor lighting doesn’t help, either. Link has to squint to make out their next destination.

All the way across the main building, two eerie lights illuminate a spot large enough to attract attention. With one pure white and one a resonating scarlet, it’s not difficult to identify their respective casters. From this distance, they don’t look like they’re doing very much – unfortunately, that’s likely to change when they start getting closer.

“ _Come on,”_ he nudges him, prying his arm right off his face. Ravio only frowns, so he lets it fall back down and smack him.

“Hey !”

“ _Sorry, couldn’t make that out. A little too muffled.”_

The Lorulean utters a gruff curse and begrudgingly sits up, running a hand through his unruly fringe. The wind has made an utter mess of it, and some strands are still trapped in his mouth.

“My legs are shaking so hard,” he laments, managing to comb most of it back. “I’m gonna topple over if I get up.”

Link shakes his head. “ _You’ll be fine. It’s not like we’re walking a tightrope ! There’s plenty of room.”_

He gives the area behind them a sweeping look, just to confirm he’s not sprouting nonsense, but he’s right. Hyrule Castle, in all its glassy modernity, has a flat and rectangular roof with as much room for movement as each of its levels. They’ll have to watch their step on the rooftiles, but that’s the biggest danger for now.

Time to get up himself, if he wants to even attempt to convince Ravio to do so. The idea isn’t very attractive, at this height, but maybe if he closes his eyes he’ll forget how high they are. Maybe.

He balances on his heels and tries to push down onto them in a feeble attempt to stand; with his eyes shut every tremor of his muscles reverberates all through his body like he’s about to stumble. Oh, it’s sickening. He never thought he’d say this, but it’s worse than being on a boat – it’s so much more disorientating, and there’s that extra _je ne sais quoi…_ Ah, of course. The dread of death.

“You look like you’re gonna be sick, Mr. Hero !”

“ _I also feel that way,”_ he mouths back, deciding that having his eyes closed is just not worth it. Now with a clear view of his tiled environment, he gives his legs a final push and manages to stand. His shoulders feel heavy, like gravity’s pushing down onto them. All around him, he can see Hyrule.

Over there is Castle Town, perpendicular roads gently cobbled, gleaming white under the moonlight. Grey and blue roofs pepper its streets like freckles. Windows are lit by candles and torches, curtains left open or drawn. All the churches are silent and dark. And to the right are the mountains, so small and so far away, and the volcano spitting out red embers that look like twinkling stars. Far away, blending into the night, lies the desert, and he can make out the first dunes cresting across the landscape. The lakes and the rivers reflect the light feebly, dancing with the wind as it comes and goes, and the sea is dark and merely a thin line in the distance.

And spreading across half of the land, an avid creature running in all directions at once, is the forest he grew up in, still lush in the darkness, still rustling and sending leaves flying towards all cardinal points. It’s overwhelming to see from up high, like a green sea so deep that you just can’t make out the bottom. He’d like to find where his village lies, but he just can’t tell. From here, it all looks the same.

He takes a deep breath, and the air is so cool it leaves his throat burning pleasantly as it sinks into his lungs. He’s alright. He’s at home, and he’s certain that home will protect him.

“What a sight,” Ravio says softly. He’s followed Link’s example and is standing with his back to him, gazing at the horizon. “Y’know, I’ve never seen the sea myself before.”

“ _Neither have I,”_ Link replies, settling by his side. _“Let’s go together soon.”_

“It’s a plan !” Smiling, he turns on his heels and faces the glowing lights. “I guess we’ve stalled enough, now. We should just get it over with.”

“ _It’s alright. We only have to do it once !”_

Miya watches the two men start walking across the roof and can’t formulate a single rational thought. Judging from the murmur going around the yard, no one can.

On top of the central building, the two figures they easily identified as the queen and Ganondorf are still facing each other, standing a few metres apart. Every so often, one of them flinches or is pushed back. From this distance, it’s practically impossible to tell what’s actually going on, but she thinks she can see light shining around them. It’s clearer when she doesn’t look right at it; then, in the corner of her eye, wisps of red and white light dance together. They’re fighting, she guesses, in their own way. It’s hard to tell who’s winning so far.

Doubt surrounds her – it has been birthed by the crowd, but now it swallows it. No one knows the intentions of the people above them, not even the young man carrying the sword of legend and his purple-clad companion. Rine had mentioned his name, had she not ? It’s Ravio. She’d like to say that he’s the wild card, as they know nothing about him, but frankly, they no nothing about _anyone_ at this point.

There’s a clang of armour, and a tall figure steps to her side. It belongs to a man, who soon pulls his helmet off and shakes out a mane of sweaty hair. She recognises him as the head of the guards, Zelda’s personal knight and lapdog, Hallan. She had no shortage of hate for him, but her opinion is changing. He too has his head lifted, and watches the scene unfold.

“It’s difficult to take sides now, isn’t it ?”

She turns to look at him, wondering what _his_ intentions are as of now. There isn’t much more that he can do, with the battle raging on above. He looks rather resigned, and there’s a far away look in his eye that confirms his understanding of this.

“It’s quite unpredictable,” she replies without taking her eyes off the figures sneaking closer to the scene. They’re making good progress. “We know of one bad, but there may be another.”

Hallan gives a short laugh. She’s surprised to find it isn’t condescending. “She isn’t _all_ bad, you know. I think that inside she truly and honestly believes that she’s doing her best to protect all of us. She simply doesn’t understand, _or care_ , that the end does not always justify the means.”

“And you do, now ?”

“I always have,” he says, “but I had a duty to fulfil. It’s just gone too far, and I’ve decided I can no longer stick to my job and use it as an excuse to do something that isn’t right.”

“I see,” she says, and she does. She has no regards for tradition, nor titles and nobility, but she understands honour. Hallan isn’t all bad either. In the end, it’s probable that no one is.

She wants to pry further and ask him about Ganondorf, about Link, about the mysterious young man running by his side; more information might help them all predict where the conflict is going, and how it will end. Who’s fighting against who ? Who will help, and which side ? When he turns to him again, lips already parted in interrogation, she finds his head tilted forward, chin resting against his armour plate. He hasn’t stricken her as the sort of man to sleep in such a situation, and she reaches out to touch him, just to check.

She gives his shoulder a little push and watches him topple over, falling onto the cobblestones with a loud thud. His eyes are closed. She tries to kneel by his side, but soon knights have swarmed around him, and he disappears entirely. Her eyes trail back to the skyline. This is a sad night indeed.

He simply has to admit that Zelda is rather good at it.

He can recognise the attitude of a warrior easily. Many men are sent out to wage war upon one another, but few of them truthfully earn the title. It requires a fighting spirit that will get up no matter how many times it falls down. It requires ironclad convictions that one drags everywhere they go. Most of all it requires the strength to give yourself up to the fight. He’d noticed it in her once before, but now he’s sure : the queen is her own kind of warrior indeed.

It’s a pleasant surprise, and one that frees him of his constrains. The vines of light travelling up and down his skin lash out once more, purple and crimson thorns digging into the protective cocoon her own magic had whisked up. They leave nasty cracks. It would be disrespectful to hold back, he feels. Another wisp darts into the crumbling hole and stabs forward.

Zelda’s face is pallid and translucent behind her white shield, but all the colour comes flowing back when it breaks, sending shards of light flying across the roof. One of them strikes the ground and slices a tile neatly in two. She presses a hand to her side and tries to hide her wince, but he notices the corner of her lips twisting downwards and grins. He’s hit her, and she’s tired. But still in her eyes shines knowingness, as though everything is going to plan. The sight of it irritates him. New marks appear on his neck and spiral up onto his face.

“I know you think that you’re in a position of power !” he calls over the wind. Every few seconds it howls past their ears, sending both of them stumbling. “You think that every outcome is favourable to you, because you have witnesses, and you hope to demonise me further. Isn’t that right ?”

She replies something that he doesn’t catch – he only sees her frown turn upside down. She waves her hand and light swirls around her again, a new wall to protect her from harm. From its sides emerge long strands of light. Even without substance, they look sharp. The jagged marks on his arms lash out, prepared to parry.

“The people of Hyrule are wise !” she shouts back, having found the strength – nonetheless, it costs her, and she staggers forward. Even with the shield in the way, he can tell he’s injured her. Her dress is tainted red. “They know what peace is worth.”

Her words are ridiculous, but they leave a deep mark. She’s still deep within her delusion, and it’s on those grounds that she’s laying down her life, hoping to leave something behind. One of her swords of light stab forward, and he jumps out of the way, sandals scraping against the rooftiles. Another follows and scraps a piece of fabric off his sleeve. He sends crimson shards of his own, admiring off-handedly the way they ride from his skin and hang in the air for a few seconds before flying her way. They’ve been getting bigger, he notices. Good – maybe a good hit is what will wake her up. Maybe, but he doesn’t think so. She’s too far gone.

The shards fly right into her shield and stay stuck there, halfway through the light. She waves a hand to shake them free unsuccessfully and gives him a dark scowl. From the sides of her cocoon, new blades form, shining brighter than before. Practice makes perfect, and just like him, she’s getting better at controlling it.

He dodges her next hit – predictable, of course, for motivation is never the equal of training – and attacks again. The shards are the size of his first, and hit the shield horizontally in a perfectly straight line. It snaps in two and crashes into the ground like the previous one, leaving her defenceless. Another round leaves red marks all over her arms and legs.

But still she stares right into him and conjures another light spell.

“You won’t achieve peace !” he shouts out, letting his arms drop for a moment. From the elbow down, his skin is completely covered in spiralling purple. “You’re right when you say Hyruleans are wise. They know that war isn’t the way to right things !”

She’s smiling again, and he can’t tell if she’s ignoring him or if she just can’t hear him anymore. Another ones of her wisps lash out, and leave a sizeable dent in his upper arm. He grits his teeth; his eyes are burning again, like they had in the library, and he knows it’s a bad sign. He hadn’t been lying to the Lorulean kid by saying he could control it, but he might have been flattering himself. The cut in his flesh heals up, crimson tendons pulling the split skin back together. Using the power only feeds it. Things need to stop escalating… or drop once and for all.

“You have to listen to me, Zelda, or I’ll have to kill you ! Please hear this : your death won’t be worth a thing ! It won’t prove your point ! No one will take up your ideals; if anything, they might rejoice ! Nothing is worth so much bloodshed, _goddamn it !”_

This time she hears him, and her face twists into a grimace of anger. Her eyes are wide and so very white, her pupil vanishing within the light pouring down her face. It looks like she’s crying, and maybe she is; her hand shifts from her bleeding wound to her chest and clutches her dress tightly. Her blades fall upon him so quickly that his head nearly rolls. He throws himself aside and crashes into the handrail, sending pangs of pain down his spine. He only has a few seconds to roll to the right and avoid getting impaled.

“I’m making you angry, ain’t I ?” he cries out, grinning like a madman. God, his back is killing him. He tries to summon some sort of shield to get a second’s respite, but his shards have turned into black and purple goo that floats lazily in front of him before dropping to the ground. “I can tell I’m pissing you off, your Highness, but you have to see reality for what it is ! No matter what you do, people will never stop fighting ! The soul never gives up ! They’ll keep opposing you until you’re gone and they’ll tear down your statues and curse your name ! People will wage war on you until you stop waging war on them ! You’re not saving anyone, Zelda, you’re condemning yourself !”

He manages to sit up and finds that her shield is flickering; her lances have dissolved completely, and any healing she’d been attempting has gone to waste. Blood trickles down her cuts and leaves red lines on her skin, streaking her pretty white dress with stains. She puts her hands on her ears and shuts her eyes, and she shakes her head hard enough that he’s half expecting it to come right off.

“That’s not true…” she whispers. “It’s not true…. It’s not true…”

It is, he’s ready to shout, but the sound of approaching footsteps sends his head turning. Two pairs of boots clink against the rooftiles. He looks up and meets the familiar eyes of his friendly nemesis, who nods at him in greeting. By his side stands another world’s swordsman. He can only find it within himself to laugh.

“It took you long enough, didn’t it ?”

“It’s not true… It’s not true… It’s not true…”

“ _Sorry. We had to climb through a window.”_

“I’m… I’m helping them… I’m protecting the future generations…”

“Any old excuse !”

“…I’m breaking the cycle…”

Both little heroes have their swords drawn. The blades are glowing a pretty white to match the veil swirling around Zelda like a sweet breeze. She’s shaking like a leaf. Preparing a new attack ? Joining the rational world at last ? He has no idea, but as the breeze accelerates and hides her completely from sight, he starts to worry.

The veil has become a tornado that lifts her feet off the ground, and her body is illuminated from the inside, warm colours dancing up and down her arms. On her chest the Triforce pulsates so brightly that his retina is imprinted with it; he watches in awe as it separates from her skin and shines before her, burning like the sun. It warps and twists and carves itself into something new, and they share a gasp that lives long enough to turn into a sigh, for the object hovering in front of her hand is recognisable to everyone in Hyrule, no matter origins or species, for it has been printed in history books still the dawn of time. In the courtyard, tongues untie and there comes a cry that rises from all of them at once :

“The Bow of Light !”

Her hands remained crossed over her heart, but the string pulls itself – Ganondorf tries to call out a warning, but it dies on his lips as he throws himself down. Link tackles his companion and both of them lie flat on the rooftops, hands instinctively protecting their heads. It occurs to them too late that running would have been safer, and the arrows rain down over them in every direction. The crowd below screams and scatters. They remain in place, tense and trembling, and the arrows cut right through them, earning screams that die in the sky. Ganondorf lifts a hand and summons his shards again; the size of a tabletop, they form a barrier around him and his friends. All three of them huddle closer and listen to the sound of the arrows hitting the shield. None of them have it in them to lift their heads.

“It sounds,” Ravio mumbles, “almost like rain.”

The arrows stop falling. Ganondorf lets their slimy shield dissolve over their heads, letting the night air in. Link rolls onto his back and stares into it for a moment, appreciating the silence. He’s been hit five times. Three of the arrows have reached him harmlessly, grazing his skin no deeper than an accidental cut, leaving white marks that gradually turn red and start to bleed out. Worse is the one that’s hit him in the back of the leg, and the one that’s gone right through his left hand. His teeth clamp down onto his bottom lip, turning it a pale white. Only someone very close would hear him hiss.

Two people are close enough. To his right, Ganondorf is sitting up, running a hand up and down his arm. His skin is a dark purple, all the way up to his sleeves. The colour is creeping up his neck like cracks, and when he notices him looking, Link averts his eyes. All of the man’s cuts have been healed up by the strange gooey stuff coming from his marks. Link doesn’t have the strength to ask just yet.

On his left, Ravio is still lying on his stomach, arms wrapped around his middle. There’s a dark stain spreading through his tunic on his right side. He attempts to cover it up, but moving causes his wound to sting and he groans, the toes of his boots scraping against the ground. There’s an arrow still embedded in the leather of one of them, hopefully sparing him. Another is sticking out of his scarf, and when Link reaches to pull it out, the wound turns out to be shallow. The young man tilts his head towards him, pressing his left cheek hard against the roof. There’s sweat on his forehead, pearling at his temples.

“Is it over ?” he asks.

 _“Yes,”_ Link mouths. _For now._

Both of them look up at once to find Zelda’s feet returning to the roof. Her eyes are closed, hands clasped together close to her chest. The Triforce has returned to her skin and shines faintly. She’s very still, letting fresh blood drip down her dress from her stomach wound. There’s no sign of pain in her expression, and Link suspects she’s recharging. She too is sweating visibly, the light emanating from her breast illuminating the droplets slipping easily down her cheeks.

“We’ll be fine for a moment,” Ganondorf tells them. He’s crossed his legs, pressing his back against the handrail, and occupying himself by scratching at the purple blotches invading his face. “She’ll attack again soon. I tried to reason with her, but I think I made matters worse. Are you seriously injured ?”

Link nods towards his hand only long enough for his signal to be understood; he doesn’t want to look at it. The arrow is stuck between two rooftiles, cutting right through his skin and bone. The feeling of cold air against an open wound and warm blood pooling around it makes his stomach churn. He shuts his eyes and lets his forehead rest against the cool tiles. His heartbeat is set–

“ _FUCKIN’ HELL !”_

The Gerudo gives his reddened face an amused glance and throws the removed arrow to the side. Its tip is tainted a wet crimson. “Calm down. Now at least it’s taken care of.”

Link bites down onto what little of his cloak is left and tries not to fume. His hand feels like it’s been split in two, pain rippling through the opposite sides of his wound. Thinking it can’t get any worse, he tries to move his fingers a little – a bad decision, he discovers, and swallows a dry heave. Blood spurts from cut blood vessels and pieces of muscle stick out of the cut. He presses his face hard against his forearm and tenses up, trying his hardest not to make the situation worse by throwing up on himself.

“ _Health potion,”_ his valid hand requests clumsily, only forming half signs. He doesn’t look up to see the glance Ravio and Ganondorf share, nor the tiny shake of the head that sends the Lorulean’s ears flickering downwards.

“We lost our bags, Link,” Ravio reminds him.

His shoulders shake. It’s either a laugh, a tremble, or the beginning of a sob – the distinction doesn’t matter, because all connotate the same feeling : despair. His whole body goes down the same road, and in the seizing muscles of his leg, he can feel the arrowhead still in place, digging through his flesh. There isn’t much more to lose; he reaches blindly behind him and gropes for it. A gentle hand takes hold of his and guides it to its goal, and together they pull the arrow out. It only stings, for now, but if he’ll manage to get up is a gamble. He tilts his head and gives Ravio a thankful nod anyway.

“I’d have done with one too,” he adds, giving him a wry smile. The corners of his lips tremble weakly when he sits up, still clutching his side. His blood has soaked through his tunic and begun dribbling down his forearm, staining his gloves black. “I think the wound from the forest reopened.”

“ _You’re shaking,”_ Link mouths, watching his partner’s shoulders hike up and down too quickly for his eyes to follow completely; tense and scrunched up, they become a thin blur within their tremble. Ravio’s head follows the movement, bobbing along to each tremor. He manages half a grin, and while it’s as bright as all the others, it’s unfamiliar.

“Yeah.” He gets himself under control long enough to shrug. “To be honest, Mr. Hero, “I’m really scared.”

As soon as the words come tumbling out, he loses his resolve and lets his lips tug downwards, scrunching up his nose. It’s another one of those habits, the ones they both have, and Link knows what it means. He predicts the tears pooling under his eyelids before they even form, and can already tell a sob will follow. He cries the same way, and with this knowledge in mind he wraps his arm around Ravio before the tears start to fall; when he shakes with his first, hoarse cry he has Link’s shoulder to press against. He wraps his free arm around his torso and grabs a fistful of his tunic to hold onto. Link strokes his back and tries to ignore the wet feeling of blood soaking through his cloak.

Is _he_ scared ? With Ravio clinging to him, sobbing warm tears onto his shoulders, he thinks he might be. Not quite for his own sake, but for everyone else’s.

“I know the situation is at its worst,” Ganondorf tells them, “but we have to gather our wits. I might be able to do something for you both. Maybe my power can be used to heal someone else.”

Link nods and loosens his hold on his companion, but the young man tightens his.

“We don’t have time…”

They follow his gaze and have to tear it away almost immediately. The queen’s figure is glowing again, and this time her eyes are very much open, and staring right at them. She takes her first step, vacillating, as though unused to using her legs. Ganondorf lifts an arm and sends a wave of crimsons shards her way. They explode when they reach her, covering her light with a coat of dark slime. This hinders her long enough for him to grab Ravio out of Link’s arms and hold him down on his back.

“Desperate times call for desperate measures.” He gives Link a brief look and nods at the light advancing upon them. “Can you stall her ?”

Ravio pulls off his left glove and taps Ganondorf’s arm. “Tell him to take this !”

“Take this !” he relays, and tosses the glove at Link’s face. This time, the Hylian catches it perfectly and grins in return. The glove is worn down, the leather discoloured around the fingers, but it fits him – _of course it does_ – and it’ll do the trick. He pulls it on, ignoring the seer of pain that stabs through his wounded palm, and gives his sword an experimental grip. His eyes tear up, teeth ripping at his lip again; it hurts much worse than anything he’s ever had to endure, but he has to take it.

Behind him, Ganondorf presses a hand to Ravio’s wound and closes his eyes. Before him, Zelda takes another step. He draws his sword and wonders if he’ll have to break his promise to never take a life again. She gives him a sad smile and lifts a hand; he readies his blade, prepared to swing.

But her hand does not reach out for him. She extends it towards the sky, and staring into its immensity, terrible, beautiful, glowing like unruly fire, she shouts. Her voice reverberates all around the courtyard, and she speaks to everyone and everything, every atom that composes the world around them, for her certainty, her grief, runs so very deep. Nothing can change her mind. Nothing can shake her.

“I HAVE TO DO WHAT’S BEST FOR HYRULE !”

She has to do what no one has done before her.

Deep within herself mastery beyond compare rests. Those Goddesses who refused to whisper in her ear for all twenty years she has been alive will have no choice but to face her. They will rally to her cause. They refused to allow her to fight for them; now they’ll fight for her.

Link watches her wave her hands, ears ringing, sword powerlessly resting by his side. He couldn’t reach her if he tried. No sword can cut light. She’s surrounded by a whirlwind once more, and he’s thrown back against the tiles, narrowly avoiding the handrail. Zelda has all but disappeared, a blinding haze standing still in front of them. The light surges.

When it is sucked back in, all at once, she falls backwards and collapses onto the ground. The light remains, and he wants to believe that he’s dreaming. It splits into three forms, that gradually take shape. They curve and ripple until he’s faced with three women, glowing three colours that any Hyrulean would recognise. He bites his tongue and tastes blood. Here they are.

The Three Goddesses hover above the ground. There’s one for each of them.

There’s no need to wonder who will fight who.


	25. Chapter 25

Din is for him.

She glows red, flames dancing along the provocative curves of her hips; they swing left and right, left and right with each step forward she takes. Her empty eyes cut right through him, pinpricks coursing down his neck. She’s examining him, he thinks, and the damage his power has already done do him. Her gaze is cold and hard, and he feels it on every inch of his skin. His hand stills over the Lorulean’s wound. He’s deaf to the young man’s shouts, and blind to his fidgeting – he doesn’t even feel the harsh pinch his arm is inflicted. He can already sense of scorching heat, and it reminds him of home’s coarse summer storms. Like the desert, she brings death and despair to those she hates. He gets up slowly, and his step resembles hers.

“Wait !” Ravio calls, outstretched hand missing the Gerudo’s shoulder by a mere inch. His wound has stopped bleeding, the flow stopped by black goo that’s slipped inside. The sensation is otherworldly, and absolutely freezing. The wind is strong this high up, but Ganondorf’s face is flushed and shimmering with sweat. He stops in front of the shining woman and gives a respectful bow. She gives one in return, and lifts a hand; her gaze splits away from her foe’s and locks onto Ravio’s. Flames dance in the green of them, sending shivers down his arms and legs. She stretches out her right arm and points at something.

He follows her index finger and meets eyes an icy blue.

That one, he assumes, is his to fight.

Nayru is for him, although he doesn’t know her name – abandoned by its deities, Lorule has made do and erased them from the books. He doesn’t _need_ to know her name to understand what she is, and what she stands for. She’s not advancing towards him like the other two are, and it’s making him most uncomfortable. Both of them stand so far apart and look at each other. The wind whips back his hair, and sends hers flying into her face. It’s stronger, and harsher on the skin. He licks his lips nervously, and finds they taste of salt. He’s never seen the sea but it will try to drown him nonetheless, for the unknown is a danger and the unknown is the undoing of the wise. When he takes a step, she takes a step, mimicking him almost perfectly down to the stagger. If he turns and runs, she will no doubt do the same, and on the other side of the planet, they’ll meet each other again. He takes a deep breath, deep enough to sting his lungs with salt and rain, and draws his sword. He’s made it this far. He _knows_ he can make it further.

“ _Ravio !”_ Link shouts. His silent cry is swept away by the wind. It’s starting to rain, droplets pouring down onto all of their heads. Ravio doesn’t heed his call, nor look his way; he and the goddess meet midway. He watches him extend a hand and bites down harshly on his lip, splitting it at last. A drop of blood pools at the surface and smudges his teeth. The goddess shakes it, and when she lets go, Ravio’s skin is still untouched and uninjured. It’s missing its glove. Link’s left hand throbs, and he lets his eyes trail away. Behind him, tremendous energy exults, enough to put pressure on his spine without quite touching it. Green light pours over his shoulders.

He’ll never escape it, will he ?

His own challenge sits behind him, rooted in the ground.

Farore is his, but all his life it’s been the other way around. She sits there, legs crossed, glowing eerily, and although her face holds no emotion he finds cockiness in all of her gestures, and hates her more than ever before. Under her feet, sprouts break through the rooftiles, reminding him bitterly of the forest she’s gotten him dragged out of. The gift she’s passed onto him has made his life much harder than it had to be. There’s anger within him, making his stomach clench and his heartbeat harsher, and it’s threatening to overflow, but something is holding it back and pushing it back into his chest. Cruelly, she carries the scent of home. Pine trees and ponds. Roasted chestnut, autumn leaves, the very crackle of sun-dried grass – she has it all with her, and it’s soothing his fury. She’s putting out his fire. Her lips are pulled up in a sort of smile, which he stares at for a moment before going to her. One of her hands reaches out, and he takes it readily, pulling her onto her feet.

They don’t shake hands, nor present their respects to each other. There’s both no need and no time, and besides, they want to get to it without delay. He readies his sword again, closing both hands over the hilt, and her hand merges into a blade of her own, shimmering like the rest of her body. They give their weapons a ceremonial slash before falling upon each other. One could hear the air split.

“What the hell is going on up there ?” Miya asks.

The crowd has tightened; no one is sure whether it’s because of the cold, or because of the ambient fear. People brush against her side, whispering questions of their own, but no one can answer hers. Who knows ? She has the unpleasant feeling that things are slipping out of her grasp again. For too long, Hyrule’s politics eluded its inhabitants, and they’d made moves and taken decisions to change that ! Those decisions are what led them to be together today, standing in the castle’s courtyard, but they’re all as lost as before. The future is not in their hands, but in those of four people.

But there are seven on the roof now, aren’t there ?

“It’s the Goddesses,” a woman beside her gasps. She tightens her hold on her shawl and points at the three new figures, glowing brightly enough to illuminate the scene. “The Three have come.”

Miya scoffs, as do a dozen people around her, but hell, it _might_ be. Goddesses fighting heroes on the roof. Why not ? She tilts her neck back down and rubs it, trying to give it a rest – a dull ache has started to make its way down her spine. The cobblestones shine briefly, and she hears heavy steps approach. A group of knights slips through the crowd and into the front lines, huddled together under the rain. She gives them a brief look before looking back down.

“How’s your leader ?”

The closest knight returns her glance, flipping her helmet back. “We’re not sure. He might have collapsed from exhaustion, but there are rumours he has a weaker heart that it seems.”

“Not only rumours,” one of her companions puts in. “The court physician told him to avoid physical strains, I heard.”

The first knight gives a nod. “This mess might have been too much for him.”

“But he’ll make it, won’t he ?” she asks.

“Hopefully,” she says.

“Things look promising,” the second one agrees.

With the pleasantries done with, they turn away from each other and fall back into line, returning to their skygazing. Miya’s neck groans with pain as soon as she tilts her head, causing her to do some groaning herself. She moves it left and right – it loosens the muscles, she hears – causing the buildings around her to blur. Most of the curtains are drawn, and no one is inside to put the lights on, but one room on the second floor sticks out, chandelier casting shadows all over the façade. She gives it an inquisitive look, squinting at it, and– oh, there they are. A little late, she’d say.

The little girl is looking straight at her. She waves her hand discreetly, and is rewarded with the kid flailing her arms around. Milo spots her as well and grins. There isn’t much to grin about, but she grins back.

Soon the girl gets tired of waving, and climbs up on the window frame again to spy on her brother. Miya should do the same. She’s jealous; from the second floor, they have a better view of the roof.

Zelda is dreaming.

Her dreams are wonderful, more so than ever before. She’s floating somewhere else, somewhere far, in a field of light and sunflowers. Her surroundings are a haze that rocks her backwards and forwards, lulling her further into sleep – here she is truly alone, and truly at rest. What a wonderful place. What a wonderful dream.

Her body is quite still, mind so very far away that nothing can wake her up, not even the rough kick she’s treated to when Ravio trips over her and nearly falls, hissing Lorulean curses into his scarf. He shakes his foot out of her dress and hops away to avoid getting further tangled up. Nayru mimics his jump and goes after him, throwing an arm over her shoulder to reach into her quiver. Like the rest of her, it shimmers and blurs every so often, like it’s not quite there at all, but no matter how her arrows may waver, they still give him real cuts.

Her eyes are vacant. She never looks at her feet before walking forward, because it doesn’t matter where she steps; she’s on a plane of her own, five inches above the ground. She draws the string of her bow once again, and like the previous two her arrow hits him dead on. He pulls it out of his arm with a sharp gasp and tosses it away. No matter which way he dodges, she seems to know it in advance. There’s no path he can take that she won’t predict.

He throws himself forward again and slashes through the air, glowing blade leaving a diagonal line etched into her chest. She touches the cut lightly with the tip of her fingers, and it fades away, making her whole again. The dents he’s made in her arms and legs have disappeared the same way. This is truly no fun at all.

To fight predictable, he has to be completely unreadable. He knows that much. If she can’t see through him, she can’t know his next move. The problem is that his arms are shaking with the strain of carrying his sword – it’s heavy, and his arms are still bruised, and his right one has two bleeding holes soaking through his sleeve – and he doesn’t have the possibility to do much, other than try to survive. He’s not sure how well that’s going.

His back bumps into something. He turns his head and meets Link’s gaze for a fleeting moment before the Hylian leaps forward, sword at the ready above his head. His eyes flicker over to Ravio for a brief second ( _sorry for running into you_ ) and then his blade cuts a straight line through the air, sending vines to dissolve on the ground. By the time he’s landed, more of them tickle his wrists; he jumps back and cuts them too. Rinse and repeat. Ravio can hear him pant.

“Stay focused !” Ganondorf shouts over to him. It’s a much-appreciated reminder; his head snaps back into place, and an arrow meant for the centre of his skull barely scrapes his right cheek. Nayru tilts her head and reaches for another. He tilts his the same way and shakes his head.

Behind him, lances clash together, sending hot red sparks raining onto the rooftiles. Tight in Ganondorf’s grasp is a weapon that doesn’t belong to him, but fits in his hands just right. It’s an identical copy of the training ones back home, down to the sand-worn hilt. The blade is sharp and shiny, but a deep red like the rest of it – although he doesn’t trust it completely, he’s glad that Din has had the decency to equip him before attacking. It gives him the opportunity of a fair fight. He says opportunity, because things are turning out so well, and he’s already losing the advantage. She’s somehow everywhere and nowhere at once, materialising in mid-air in a spot previously vacant. The jabs of her blade are true and vicious. She has appraisable swordsmanship. Tonight, he’s unhappy to see it.

The tip of his lance throws hers out of balance and gives him an opportunity to slide forward and embed it into her stomach where it sinks. He keeps pushing it in until half the length has disappeared – only then does he realise that it’s not reappearing on the other side of her. She looks down at him, and he’s sure he sees a smile on her empty face as she grips her weapons with both hands and stabs downwards. The blow leaves a rip in his shoulder and a yell in his throat. Gripping the oozing wound, he staggers up and runs, putting distance between the two of them.

She’s absorbed his weapon entirely, and her torso is glowing an alarmingly bright red. Her lance elongates in her grasp until it’s nearly twice her side, and half made of harrowingly sharp metal. She gives it a twirl, cutting through the air harshly enough to awaken the wind. Very well, then. If he is to die on this battlefield, he’d rather it be his own fault. His arms, covered in crimson and purple snaking around each other, flash; the marking crawls up his face and reaches his mouth, where it attaches itself and spreads across his chin. From his hands emerges a blade of his own, bubbling and spitting out black and red alike.

Her lance falls upon him, and he meets it halfway.

Clash, clatter, scrape – the soles of Link’s boots drag across the roof, reeling under his feet. Farore’s sword is upon him already, despite all his dodges, and she’s pressing down on it hard enough to make him lose his balance. He puts all his weight into pushing the Master Sword up into it, to repel it long for him to escape, but no amount of shaking makes it budge. His eyes go wide – the goddess’ weapon is melting above his, blade splitting as he pushes. He quickly steps forward and fills the space between them, and the movement is enough to cut the sword in two. Both pieces drop to the floor, where they don’t clatter but _pool_ and start eating through the rooftops, bubbling merrily. The tips of his boots are fizzing. Empty-handed, Farore’s defence is finally down, and he jumps on the opportunity to slash at her. He’s trying to go for traditionally vital points – head and heart, isn’t it ? – but his arms are shaking so badly that it takes all his concentration to hit her at all. Pieces of her arm and a few fingers fly off and sizzle on the ground. She doesn’t seem all that bothered.

He pauses to take a breath – his lungs are screaming for a break, sending sparks of pain down his sides every time his ribs move up and down. He wouldn’t be surprised if his earlier fall had broken one, to be honest, judging from the white spots that pepper his vision when he gulps down air. He only needs a moment’s rest for his body to untense, but where sword has vanished, vines remain, and from Farore’s arms emerge spikes and ivy alike that glow menacingly around her. They travel towards him so fast that he has no time to get out of the way, and his attempted step back only results in him toppling over. The cut in his leg is still open, and straining the muscles has sent him down to the ground. He shuts his eyes and braces himself. The wind whisks by.

“Get back up !” Ravio yells at him.

His eyes fly open. Heart hammering, he scrambles back onto his feet and picks up his sword, staggering into an upright position. He’s not dead – even more surprisingly, he’s not dissolving. Ravio’s sword rips through the vines, and green droplets rain down onto the roof. Her hand begins to merge into a blade again, sharpening at the tips of her fingers, but he hacks at it before it can form. Amazingly, Link is convinced he hears him laugh. The Lorulean hops out of the way and carves a piece out of her shoulder, taking a second to look back at Link.

“Behind you, Mr. Hero !”

Link pivots and meets the cold gaze of Nayru, who towers over him coolly. Her bow lies limp at her hip, an arrow balancing between her index and thumb. She’s not outright attacking, and he’s not about to wait for her to – it’s time to take the high ground and beat her to it. Sword outstretched, he runs forward and is met with thin air. She’s gone ! He spins on his heals and finds her ahead of him, making her way towards Ravio. Wind blows in her step, keeping him away; he’s just an unrelated nuisance on her path to her target. With gritted teeth, he watches her go.

Farore withdraws a few feet away to prepare her next move. Out of his blade’s reach, she has the time to summon her dripping vines again and sends them his way before he reaches her. They shoot past him and curl back; he manages to cut two down, but the third wraps around his forearm and squeezes. The young man screams and wraps his hand around it to yank it away – a mistake, for his left glove is still on Link’s hand. The smell of burnt skin rises, and Ravio must smell it himself, because his face turns pale and he slackens where he stands, giving a despairing little moan. Content with her work, Farore steps around him and withdraws her vine. Onto her own target, he expects.

But while she and him are on opposite sides of the roof, Nayru is almost at Ravio’s level. He’s shrunk in his spot, shoulders curving forward, raised nearly enough to touch his ears. They’re shaking. He’s gripping his wounded arm, burnt hand dangling by his side, when Link manages to catch a glimpse of his face, he wishes he hadn’t. It bears so much despair that it’s almost pouring out, tears prickling at his eyes and making the tips of his ears tremble. He’s lost and he’s hurt, and it’s clear just looking at him. He pants, uninjured hand wrapping around the hilt of his sword again. He’s tired and he’s wavering. The holes arrows have left in his arms spit out blood, and Nayru is already at his shoulder, fingers strumming at her bow. His head straightens. Link hears him take a shaky breath.

With the strength only someone gripped by fear can summon, he launches himself across the roof and slides across the floor, rooftiles ripping shreds off his tunic as he goes, coming to a stop at Nayru’s feet. Her wind is calm. She’s turned to him, arrow already drawn and at the ready – _somehow she knew –_ but he’s quicker this time, and slashes right through her ankles. On her other side, Ravio’s gone for the neck, a quick-drawn stab leaving her head floating above it all by itself. The cut goes straight through her essence and leaves a hovering empty line, as does Link’s, who finally breathes a sigh of relief. It prickles at his chest and takes some of the pain away. Adrenaline is on his side ! He grins at Ravio, and Ravio grins back, with the ferocious determination of someone who will not be knocked down, but he doesn’t look relieved.

“Run for it,” he simply says, before doing so himself.

Without asking questions, Link complies. He runs down the length of the roof, jumping over jutting-out rooftiles and crumbling ones alike, until he’s far enough to be out of range, and only then does he turn around to look at Nayru. The cuts have vanished. She’s whole again, and advancing towards Ravio again. The Lorulean is back on his feet and wearing a fighter’s grim smile that reassures Link, if only a little. He should be alright. And later, when they’ve won, he’ll be able to thank him for saving his ass.

There’s a loud crash behind him, which is soon followed by a rain of bricks and tiles that pours over an entire section of the roof, damaging the wall enough for it to start crumbling – at this stage, it barely makes him jump. Behind the cloud of smoke and plaster, Ganondorf is going forth with his lance, stabbing the air left, right and left again, always missing his foe by no more than an inch. Din appears in mid-air without warning, and it’s a miracle he’s escaping her own attacks at all. His tunic has been torn at the sleeve and half of it hangs off of his body, revealing pitch black skin gleaming with sweat, and perhaps something else. His face has been eaten up by those crimson marks up to the nose, and they continue to crawl slowly higher.

His eyes _(were they always red ? so red ?)_ flicker towards an empty spot to his right – by the time he’s turned towards it, it’s filled with Din’s slender frame, holding out her weapon high above her head. Her blow misses, and the blade gets stuck in the ground; his, however, hits home. She can’t absorb his power the way she absorbed her own, and it remains there, digging a hole into her abdomen. The dark red slime seems to clot, spreading around her glowing wound, and her light visibly dims. Finally ! His eyes flash their usual golden and he pushes the lance in deeper before letting go. It stays in place. He takes a step back and watches her fall down, light dimming to a dull glow.

He’s done it, and the sight of it lights up a fire within Link that he thought was gone. He’s done it – he’s gotten one down ! He wants to shout out in celebration, but settles for grinning wide. There’s hope for them still. If Din can be beaten, so can the other two, and they _will be_ , goddamn it. His muscles are aching and his ribs screaming for rest, but his heart is ablaze and his mind racing. He can feel Farore creep closer, but he’s no longer so scared of her and her vines. When they come into sight, he cuts them down and watches them fall out of the corner of his eye. So far they’ve only been defending successfully. He needs to land a good hit.

Oh – well, that’s an idea.

He likes it immediately, because it’s the kind of plan Ravio would smack him for suggesting, and because it has a fifty percent chance of failing. In other words, he needs to be good, and he needs to be _lucky._ There’s nothing wrong with trying, and after all, what’s the worst that could happen ? He might get half of his face melted off, sure. Perhaps he might die. But he has his friends covering him, and his gut is curiously clench-free. He slides his sword back into its sheath over his shoulder and sprints to Ganondorf’s side.

The young man’s head whips his way, and Link spies his muscles tensing before he realises who it is. He offers a steely smile and scratches his face with a bloody hand. “One down.”

 _“And two to go,”_ Link signs quickly. Farore is already close enough. “ _Can you give me a hand ?”_

He reaches for his lance with a raised eyebrow, but Link furiously shakes his head.

_“No ! I need you to hoist me up !”_

Ganondorf tilts his head – the Hylian joins his hands and forms a step with them in demonstration. His eyes shine, and a grin spreads across his face. He nods his understanding and shoos Link away.

“Daring.”

 _“You know me,”_ he jokes. His eyes flicker back to Farore, advancing towards them. If this works, she’ll be done. _“Get ready !”_

“Ready when you are,” he says, and kneels. His hands are carefully held together, fingers solidly entwined. “Make it count.”

Oh, he will, he thinks, and launches forward. The muscles in his leg seize and cry – he ignores them, building up speed in his run across the width of the roof to waiting friend. Ganondorf braces himself, lowering his hands. Link’s foot slides into the makeshift stirrup and lets his speed and the Gerudo’s strength carry him upwards. Farore is there. She’s waiting. He takes a deep breath and leaps at her.

He falls. The moment is frozen in time – he’s flying across the sky, a shadow before the full moon, illuminated wildly. The courtyard holds its breath. The rustle of trees quiets down. He has the time to draw his sword.

Then he drops upon her and cuts her clean in half.

His sword rips through her from head to toe, splitting her in two parts that wobble in place like jelly before collapsing to the ground and beginning to smoke. He lands after her, the toes of his boots touching the rooftops inches away from her remains. For a few seconds, there’s little he can do but watch her body cool down, losing its bright green glow, and then he breathes again, and his heart resumes its merry thumping, and he reaches towards the sky and laughs. He’s grinning so hard that it _hurts,_ the cuts around his cheeks threatening to open again, but he doesn’t care – he’s succeeded, and Farore is down. He turns towards Ganondorf with a sparkle in his eye and renewed relentlessness in his heart. He’s done it. They’ve gotten two down, and it’s only a matter of time before they defeat the third, too.

“Good job !” Ganondorf grins when he runs over, tucking his weapon away. He claps him merrily on the back, and his hand remains in place, squeezing his shoulder. There’s something both warm and thrilling about his congratulations that only makes Link smile harder. “That was more spectacular than I’d expected.”

“ _I believe you,”_ Link mouths through a pant, and allows his muscles to relax. Legs and arms alike are making him pay the price of his recklessness, and feel as heavy as led. He slumps against the Gerudo’s arm, forcing himself to breathe evenly. “ _We have to go and help Ravio !”_

“He doesn’t seem to need much help,” Ganondorf comments, nodding towards the two figures ahead. It’s true – where Ravio is predictable, so is Nayru, and he’s slashing at her ferociously, not giving her a second to breathe. She keeps reforming as soon as his blade escapes her flesh, but he just keeps the hits coming, and the speed is too great for her to keep up with. From what he can make out, the young man has already succeeded in chopping her arm off once and for all, and has taken a large chunk out of her thigh. She’s unsteady on her feet, and her arrows begin to miss. Ravio drives his blade into her again and pushes her down.

“Predict this !” he spits, pressing his foot onto the apparent tear on her leg. Under his weight, it rips apart further. She’s already covered in cuts and full of holes. He’s worn her out enough to take the higher ground, little revenge for the number of holes she’s put in _him._ One of his arms grips the other tightly, but blood still runs down his fingers, dripping onto his sword. There’s a moment of uncertainty, during which Link is afraid he might collapse, but he stays upright and stable enough to lift his sword up, blade facing downwards, and in a rough motion thrust it into Nayru’s chest. There’s no spit of light, nor cry of anguish. Like her sisters’ before her, her light fades to a flicker.

Both of them cheer from their spot, Ganondorf a little louder. Frowning playfully his way, Link does his best to wave with all his might, ignoring the strain on his wounds. He’ll have the time to worry about them soon, by the looks of it. Ravio turns around and spots them, and gives a merry laugh – his face is shining with sweat and pride alike, and he lifts a hand to wave as well.

“We did it !” he shouts, giving an unconscious jump to carry the words further. His voice is trembling with relief. “We beat them !”

“ _We did,”_ Link mouths back. The words are finally hitting home. Now that there’s no danger to look out for, he finds his neck relaxing, and realises how tense he’d been. His whole body feels like it’s turning to mush, but he pushes it a little further to make his way over to his partner.

Ravio runs to meet him halfway, still carried by his adrenaline – he nearly sweeps Link off his feet in his fervour, and wraps his arms tightly around him. They’re covered in cuts and bleeding onto each other, but Link is convinced it’s their best hug to this day. Ravio’s eyes have shut, but tiny tears of relief find their way from under his eyelids and pool, glimmering gently above his trademark smile. He lets out a shaky laugh and squeezes Link harder. Link throws his arms around his neck and squeezes back, trusting him to keep him stable. He’s starting to cool down at last, the heat of battle washed off him by the rain. He presses his face against Ravio’s shoulder and breathes out.

“ _And I thought we’d only hold out for ten minutes.”_

“Eleven,” Ravio recalls quietly. “I said ten – you said eleven. But I guess we were both wrong, Mr. Hero. We made it after all !”

Ganondorf joins them in the centre of the rooftop at a slower pace. He’s still scratching at his face. “I’m struggling to believe it myself,” he puts in, smiling a good-natured smile. “You two put up a good fight. It’s hard to believe you don’t have military training.”

“ _We’re as surprised as you a_ –“

“…Link ?”

“What’s wrong ?”

“I…I don’t know !”

Ravio finds his grip of Link slipping. The young man has crumpled in his arms, nearly folded in half, gripping his middle tightly enough to make his fingers turn white. His shoulders are shaking, and so are his legs – then soon give in and he tumbles onto his knees and out of Ravio’s hug. He immediately follows him down and kneels by his side, one hand on his back and one pushing his hair out of his face. Link pants loudly and screws his eyes shut.

“Link, are you alright ?” he presses, letting his hand slip onto the young man’s cheek. He tries to tilt Link’s face towards him, but it’s stuck firmly in place and tense to the point of trembling.

“ _My stomach,”_ he manages, barely able to feel his lips. All sensations have left his body to converge in his gut, where they explode in a firework of pain that rips a pained sob from his throat. It’s been bad, but it’s never been this bad. He tries to move his legs, and finds that he can’t. The pain still hasn’t lessened, and keeps pushing against him – it’s as if it’s trying to get out. He wraps his arms tighter around himself and lets Ravio pull him closer. Ganondorf kneels as well and gives the Lorulean an inquisitive look.

“What did he say ?”

“It’s his stomach,” Ravio relays, but he’s hardly looking at him. His eyes dart around their surroundings, staying no more than a second in every spot. His mouth feels very dry, all of a sudden. “This usually happens when… when something bad is about to happen.”

And it’s never wrong.

The light returns far more quickly than it had faded. It surges, flashing wildly; the three of them cover their eyes and brace themselves, listening to the wind howl. Link can feel his lungs fill up with dread that he’d thought gone; his throat tightens, his hands tremble, and the pain is replaced with fearful realisation. He knows he should open his eyes and find out what’s happening, but he can guess, and he doesn’t want to see it himself. If he does, he’ll have to face it as a reality. Exhausted to the point of tears, he isn’t sure he can do that, and by the way Ravio and Ganondorf move closer to him, he thinks they can’t, either. Wasn’t it over…? They’ve given it their all and have nothing left. They have no chance of taking them down again.

Ravio opens his eyes first, and finds his grip on Link unconsciously tightening, making his fingers tremble harshly. He tries to make a noise – anything ! be it a sob, a despairing moan, even a whine would do – but no sound will come out of his mouth. His heart has dropped down to the bottom of his stomach and keeps thumping there; waves of sickness wash over him. His eyes are so wide that they hurt, and there are dark spots all over his vision, but he can see her clearly enough. She’s already standing, the holes and cuts on her arms and legs having filled up with glowing light once more. She’s looking right at him.

Ganondorf’s heart is hammering in his chest, an unwanted distraction in these trying times. The whiplash of renewed tension over relief is making his body weak and uncertain – his brain, too, needs time to kick back into action, and he doubts that he has it. They should have known better than to believe it would only take one round. But after such struggles, it was so natural to let their guards down. He places his hands on his knees, willing them to be still, but they shake and shake and shake. Din is sitting up, and within her dances his own power, scarlet and brighter than the rest. It comes in flashes, and with it her injuries disappear. She works her way back on her feet, and for the first time in a while, he’s afraid. His skin is still pitch black, crimson marks dancing across it. What’ll happen if it goes all the way up and covers him completely ? He remembers the dark scriptures of the pig-like beast that is Ganon. He doesn’t want to disappear.

When Link gathers the willpower to force his eyes open, Farore is already close. Her step is still unbalanced, the two parts of her body going forth independently – green tendons pull them back together, and again, she is one. Vines sprout from her skin and wrap around her arms, covering her in thorns, and she _shines_ … The light overwhelm him. He tastes blood, and remembers his split lip. It’s the least of his worries, now, but the sharp pangs of pain coming from the cut are what pushes his fear into fanatic despair, and he too presses closely to his companions. She’s so close. She’s too close.

“We have to…” Ganondorf attempts, but the words get stuck in his throat. Between his two trembling friends, he’s the only one who’s still level-headed, but he can feel it slip away from him, and the slope is a sharp one. There has to be some strategy left, some unattempted last resort attack ! The three glowing figures step closer in tandem. They’re closing in on them. He can feel it. Heat burns away the coolness of the rain. He tries to get up, but his muscles are frozen in place, and there’s little he can do but curse them. “We…”

_We’re dead._

There’s no time. They’re surrounded – even if they could force their legs to run on survival instinct, they’d be pushed back down. The goddesses tower over them, encasing them in a triangle of light that stills even the air. Link feels his heartbeat slow in his chest. His head empties completely, the last protective barrier left within him, sparing his mind from gripping terror, and he sits slack, looking up into the light. Ravio is crying, his whole body seized with shaking that causes them to bump together. His hand finds Link’s and squeezes as hard as it can. His breaths are trembling pants, mingling with sobs to create a miserable melody indeed. It all happened to fast. His other hand lets go of his bleeding arm – what’s the point ? – and closes over Ganondorf’s wrist. The Gerudo gives a tense nod and moves to take Link’s free hand as well. They’ve done their best. It just wasn’t enough.

Bow, lance and sword are aimed at their necks, so close that they can almost feel them on their skin. Strangely, they feel serene. There’s no use in letting fear grip them now – it’s not what they want to feel in their last moments. Ravio finds his tears running out, and wipes his cheeks, rubbing them against what’s left of his sleeves. The tremors in his fingers are gone. Link returns to his senses enough to squeeze his hand back, letting his heart beat its last beats. Ganondorf’s legs untense, enough for him to draw them closer, relieving the pain. Blades above them take aim.

They notice at the very same time that they’re glowing.

It’s not quite the same glow – none of them have the right word, but when Link will later describe the experience to Rine, she’ll use the term ‘ghostly’. Light shines outward from them without touching their skin, a pretty golden that wraps around the weapons pointed their way and pushes them away. Link looks at them dumbly, mouth hanging half open and eyes wet and wide. His shoulder prickles; he reaches up to scratch it quite unconsciously, but his fingers come back coated in gold. He’s leaking light, he realises. It drips from Ravio’s knee and runs down Ganondorf’s arm, erasing in its wake the black marks that plague him. Within their cocoon, time stops. They look at each other, and realise.

It’s the Triforce.

It doesn’t float in front of them, nor does it even appear, but they can feel it in their _bones._ They’ve come together, each bearing a piece, and it’s heeded their call. There’s a weight around them, a thickness in the air, that orders them into reverent silence; it doesn’t need to, for their voices have died away. The hairs on Link’s neck and arms stand on end. He’s never had faith, but he _knows_ there something there, something flowing through them. It’s been within them the whole time. Ravio’s eyes are full of lights, mesmerised by the golden wisps dancing around them. There’s calmness in their hearts and clarity in their minds. And somewhere, under all the layers of golden peace, a cry of victory that sets them alight.

They close their eyes and touch the mark on their skin, and the lights explode all around them.

The goddesses are wiped out completely, dissolving under the golden drops that rain down on them. They leave behind no burns, no traces, not even a solitary thorn – only a cry of anguish that resonates over the rooftops. The wind blows their remains into the night sky, where they shrink to nothing and disappear completely. Zelda’s body seems to spasm. It convulses into a sitting position, and her face, thin and pale, stares at them with wide eyes. Her dress is soaked with blood, leaving dried traces all over her skin. She looks ahead listlessly and gives a soft, tormented moan.

They help each other up as she struggles to stand. The golden lights are already dying away, floating around them like dim fireflies, but they’re still upright, driven by what’s left of it within them. Link’s body no longer aches; he takes the lead and walks over to her, dragging his feet across the rooftops. Her pupils dilate, and she takes a step back, raising a trembling hand to ward him off. With her wide eyes and bloody clothes, mouth uttering words for no one to hear, she looks lost to this world.

He keeps going, and she moves back again, feet shuffling backwards fearfully. She’s too close to the edge, and too far gone to realise it. She’s weakened, shivering, drained of everything from power through to convictions, and he feels sorry for her. He’ll never forgive her until the day he dies, but he holds out a hand for her to take. She needs help. She needs to see clearly again. Everyone deserves a shot at that.

She looks at her hand, and then she looks at him, and tears trickle down her ashen face. Her body lurches forward, and for a second, he thinks she might take his hand, but she shakes her head wildly and tries to escape him, taking one step back too many. He watches her lose her footing, face twisting with panic, and fall backwards. Only when she disappears does he realise what has happened, and it’s already too late.

A sickening thump resounds in the courtyard.

He keeps staring at the empty spot where she had stood so fervently. He keeps staring at it until the golden rain stops coming and the pain returns, and then he lets his legs buckle beneath him and collapses.

The queen is dead. Long live the queen.


	26. Chapter 26

“Did you hear ? The queen is dead !”

“It’s the talk all over town ! I heard that she jumped off the castle’s roof…”

“No way ! I heard that she fell after a battle with the legendary hero !”

“Well I was there, and I can guarantee she jumped !”

“You were there ? Did you see…?”

“You mean…!”

“The Goddesses ! The Three !”

“I heard there was another man there, who looked just like the hero.”

“I did ! They were there, glowing so bright we could make out everything that was going on ! Oh, it was breath-taking !”

“Just like him ? There’s a rumour that he has a secret twin…”

“I heard that the hero flew across the sky ! We could see his silhouette pass in front of the moon !”

“Don’t be ridiculous, he merely jumped ! No one is capable of _flying._ ”

“He’s the _hero._ He might be ! They say he has brute strength. Maybe he’s the one who pushed the queen…”

“Purple hair. I know it was dark, but I swear ! They looked like brothers !”

“Sir Hallan…”

“He did what…?”

“I saw them climb onto the roof ! My heart was beating so hard !”

“My husband’s sister was there, and she told me that he helped the rebels, even protecting them to the point of collapsing !”

“The scourge and the hero fighting side by side…”

“So he leaps, right, and his sword cuts through her and she breaks like glass !”

“Not just one ! Two or three newspapers were stifled. It came in just this morning that the supposed alliance was a bloodbath.”

“Bullshit ! I didn’t see no other hero !”

“Milo somethin’. You can’t expect me to remember everyone’s names ! It was definitely Milo somethin’.”

“They say the Three all had the queen’s face.”

“…skin dark as the night, with red creepin’ up and down it.”

“I heard they didn’t even get injured. That all of her attacks missed them.”

“With so much light up there, I didn’t actually see very much.”

“I saw _everything !_ ”

“A shower of golden arrows. Some even fell into the yard. I nearly got hit !”

“Issuing a royal apology, are they ? The damage is done !”

“I saw two Master Swords ! Clear as day !”

“Couldn’t you be mistaken ?”

“There’s word going ‘round that she was insane. Like, nuts. Rats runnin’ through the attic and enough bolts loose to send a carriage a-crashin’.”

“I thought it would never end !”

“Talk is talk, but there’s always some truth to it. For instance –”

“Who knows what happened up there ?”

Link’s second attempt at stretching is no more successful than the first.

He has no idea how long he’s been asleep; the sunlight pouring into the room tells him it’s been at least a few hours, but it might have been minutes for all he can tell. His ears are still ringing. The infirmary is silent, but his head is full of white noise. His muscles still screech in protest when he tries to lift his arms above his head, and he doesn’t blame them. They need rest. So does he.

Right now, he can’t think. It’s too soon. The best he can do is observe what’s around him, and that’s plenty already. He turns his neck slowly, easing it into a less tense position and slumping back down onto the bed. His torn tunic has been replaced with a clean white one, silky against his skin. His arms, weakly lying above the sheets, are covered with a patchwork of bandages and plasters. His left hand is encased in layers of gause, and he finds he can hardly move it. Never mind. There’s fresh dressing on his burn, but it’s been clumsily administered and blocks part of his vision. He holds back a sigh. His ribs are aching dully. He doesn’t have the strength to look at the bruising just yet.

He can’t feel it, but he guesses his leg is in bad shape – there are two sturdy wooden crutches waiting for him, propped against his bed. The sight lights a small burst of panic within him that he quickly swallows : none of this is permanent. He just needs time, and he’ll have plenty of it now.

Now that…

The bed next to his is empty, but the crumpled sheets hanging off it suggest it wasn’t always. He feels his chest tingle and forces himself back into a sitting position. It’s not a good idea to get up so soon, and he knows he’ll be scolded for it, but he needs to find him, right now. He tries to throw his legs over the bed, and finds they need assistance. Standing is another matter yet, and his knees nearly buckle as soon as his feet touch the ground, but he grits his teeth and reaches for a crutch. Red stains through his bandaged hand.

The first few steps are difficult. The urgency thumping through his whole body drives the pain away and eases his aches enough for him to make it through the doorway. There’s a window wide open in the corridor, letting the cold air and the murmur of tree leaves in. The sound, although feeble, soothes him. And below its frame sits Ravio.

His back is propped up against the wall, arching forward – his hand is pressing against that spot on his stomach again, where scarlet has left a trail down his white clothes. In his position, knees hiked up close to his chest, the trousers provided slide up his leg and reveals the dark purple bruising that winds around his ankles. One of them is in a tight cast and trembling feebly. When he notices Link, he gives a beaming grin, wide enough to scrunch up the three layers of gauze that have been slapped over his nose. It looks both heavy and absurd, and Link’s chest shakes with a laugh.

“Good morning !” he says merrily. He’s very good at hiding his pain, and his eyes hardly shift at all. “Fancy seeing you here !”

The sight of him, injured but alive and _smiling,_ allows Link to relax. Familiar warms floods him, and he manages a lazy grin. “ _I was just walking by.”_

He shuffles closer, coordinating leg and crutch with just enough skill to stay upright, and stops right in front of him. There, he leaves his crutches by the wall and crouches down with a quiet groan. Everything hurts, but Ravio’s eyes are twinkling, so it isn’t so bad.

“ _It’s good to see you,”_ he mouths.

“See me, Mr Hero ?” the young man mocks, reaching out to brush the bandages out of his eye. “Partially only ! They sure were generous with the bandages, weren’t they ?”

“ _Not generous enough, though,”_ he points out, nodding at the red stain spreading through his tunic.

Ravio gives an embarrassed chuckle and shrugs. “That one might just be on me, actually. The nurse told me not to get up or moved. And, to put it bluntly, I –”

_“Got up and moved ?”_

“Right ! I just wanted to open the window and take a breath of fresh air.” He pauses, and his grin seems a little lopsided. “When I woke up, I couldn’t… couldn’t really believe that I was alive. I just wanted to check.”

He must feel Link’s hand brushing against his knee, because he pulls his lips right back up into a soft smile. “I’m better, now. My head’s just a little full ! And I ended up re-opening my wound by running around the halls, so I was kind of stranded here.”

“ _I understand,_ ” Link signs. They’re both full of unwanted thoughts, but it’s better when they’re not apart. The relief in Ravio’s eyes mirrors his. _“I’ll help you up.”_

The Lorulean lifts an eyebrow. “Oh, you will ?”

It’s clear he’s looking at the crutches, and the generally poor state Link is in, but the amusement in his gaze only makes his determination double. He nods and extends a hand, which Ravio grips. He’s exhibiting more confidence that he’s feeling, and quite frankly there’s a good chance they’ll both collapse, but it’s worth a try. He manages to stand, putting as little pressure on his injured leg as possible, and with Ravio’s arm slung around his neck, gets him up onto his feet. The action, so tiny, has been enough to tire him, and his legs ache beneath him. Ravio is unstable on his feet, sprained ankle trembling under his weight; they’re both panting into each other’s face, eyes shut and face tense. It’s a little sad, and a little sweet.

“ _Helped you up,”_ Link smiles, mostly just to make his point. He hardly feels Ravio punch his arm.

“I knew you would,” he replies, a chuckle on the tip of his tongue. He tightens his hold – their knees bump into each other, threatening to topple them over entirely. His chin is slung over Link’s shoulder, and it oughtn’t be. Even if he can feel him, so warm against his chest, he needs to see him. He leans back, and Mr Hero’s eyes peer into his.

They’re so clumsy. They’re covered in cuts and scrapes and burn marks alike, and now they’re nearly waltzing, clinging to each other in a feeble attempt not to fall. Link thinks it’s a miracle they’ve made it through, that they’re still alive and breathing. They’re just so clumsy. He sighs softly onto his partner’s face and leans in, in a way that he bets is clumsy too. And then he presses his lips against Ravio’s, just long enough to feel how warm they are under his, how gentle, and pulls away in a clumsier way yet. Maybe it doesn’t matter, because Ravio’s face lights up, and he laughs a merry laugh that suits him so.

“What’s your made-up excuse this time ?” he teases, leaning against him a little more.

“ _Couldn’t think of one.”_

“I thought you’d never run out !”

“Why…! You two !”

Both of them whip their heads around to locate the new come voice, and the movement is clearly too brusque for them; Ravio whines and drops his head onto Link’s shoulder, reaching up to rub his bruised neck, and putting altogether too much pressure on an already unstable Link. They stumble into the wall gracelessly, a motion that only rouses more unhappy grumbles from the voice’s owner.

It turns out to be a middle-aged nurse, who advancing upon them like a wolf upon their pray. The look on her face is genuinely frightening. Behind her, at a calmer pace, a familiar face follows – golden eyes shine, clearly entertained.

“You !” the nurse says, voice bordering on vicious. Her finger pokes harshly into Ravio’s shoulder. “I thought I told you not to move ! You underestimate the seriousness of your injuries, and display absolutely no desire to heal quickly ! Look at that – you’re bleeding again. I’m going to have to re-do that entire section of your dressing. Aren’t you ashamed ?”

Ravio is not. He forces down his smile, pressing his lips together into a more or less straight line. Link laughs silently, hiding his face behind his bandaged hand, but his humour dies away when he notices the dark glare on her face. Clearly, it’s his turn.

“And _you !”_ she cries, hands balled up into frustrated fists. “Do you think this behaviour is worthy of a hero ? All’s well that ends well, but that hand of yours has a hole in it, mister ! And your leg ! Do you truly wish to pull _all_ of your muscles ? Those crutches haven’t even been adapted to your height yet. I’d have expected better from you ! Come on ! Back to the infirmary, right away !”

Link grunts and removes his arms from around Ravio, reaching for his crutches with a surly pout; the nurse gives an angry huff and grabs his arm before it can reach them. Her grip is iron-tight. He lets her handle him, tilting his head to give his partner a helpless smile.

“I’ll help you walk. Don’t put any weight on your bad leg !” She turns briefly towards Ravio and nods. “Your visitor will make himself useful and help you back. It’s right next door.”

“Certainly,” Ganondorf puts in.

Both of them turn to greet him – a hand thrust onto Link’s already battered spine dissuades him for the moment, but Ravio gets to give him a cheery hello and lean against his arm. The Gerudo doesn’t have the trace of a limp, nor even the smallest scratch. If it wasn’t for the dark rings weighing under his eyes, one could doubt his involvement. Even the dark marks that had threatened to swallow him whole are gone. When he catches Link staring, he offers him an easy smile, but it’s clear from the steely look in his eye that they have a lot to discuss.

The fuzzy noise in his head has returned. Maybe it’s a concussion.

“Sorry for ruining your moment,” he tells his Lorulean friend, helping him step cautiously across the corridor. Ravio shrugs.

“Couldn’t be helped !”

The four of them hobble into the hospital bay, clinging to doorways and window frames alike. Link has been relieved to find himself in bed, but this time outranks every other, and he sinks into the mattress with unmatched gratefulness. Sure, it’s hard, and he can feel the wooden planks holding the bedframe together, but it’s nothing compared to the joy of lying his leg down and feeling his muscles rest. Ravio, who settles on the closest bed, sighs with similar satisfaction.

The nurse gives them both a stern look. Whatever she’s scrawling into her notebook, it can’t be too good. “Don’t look so happy, now,” she admonishes. “You both need a fresh set of stitches. I’ll call over my assistant so we may get to it right away ! You’d better be here when I come back !”

“Yes, ma’am,” Ravio choruses for two. Link hardly bothers nodding.

The glare she gives them is mistrust at its finest.

Ganondorf covers up a snort and clears his throat. “I’ll watch over them, if it eases your worries.”

“Very well,” she says, peering at him. She gives the distinctive impression that she has no idea who she’s talking to. “If they go dancing around the castle and collapse, I’ll hold you accountable !”

With those blunt words, she turns her back on them and marches out of the room, heel clicking against the tiles as she goes. When the sound is out of earshot, Ganondorf goes over to the door and shuts it with a careful kick. He presses his back against the wood, and looks at them both.

“How are you doing ?”

Silence greets his question like an old friend, embracing it before it’s even left his mouth. Ravio picks at the bandage on his nose, scratching insistently at the scarred skin beneath. Link keeps his head bowed. There’s no need for pretences; they were all up there together, after all. They all saw the same thing.

“ _You look well,”_ Link signs, carefully off-topic.

“I am.” The Gerudo pauses to run a hand over his Triforce. Today, it’s calm. “My power must have healed me immediately.”

“ _The goo’s all gone ?”_

Ganondorf gives a half-smile. “If you want to call it that, then yes, the goo’s all gone.” He stops and lifts his head, examining them for a moment. He’s stepping into sensitive territory. Then, carefully, he continues : “When we used the Triforce, it was wiped right off me. It was inches away from taking me over entirely. Had luck not been on our side, well…”

Link cringes back at the thought. His uninjured hand reaches up to cradle his head, rubbing at it with hope it might ease him. Beneath his eyelids, light flashes again, blinding, ready to swallow them whole. Remembering the horror, the gripping fear, the fire and the relief, he’s gripped by vertigo. His stomach churns. His ears ring. He forces his eyes open and swallows back a wave of sickness.

“I’m sorry,” the Gerudo says. “I know you’d rather avoid talking about this for the time being, but things are moving fast. We have to discuss them.”

Ravio shakes his head – the gesture jarring, and most likely unconscious. “It’s just a lot, all at once. It happened so fast that I feel like I’m… still up there.”

His fingers continue their fast-paced scratching, tugging bandages out of their way. The memory has wiped his good mood right off his face and left his lips trembling. The highs and lows. The brutal tugs on his heart. It’s like it hasn’t stopped, hasn’t stopped at all. But there’s all this golden light, making his eyelids spasm weakly – the infirmary becomes no more than a blur.

There’s a loud rip that bounces off the walls, reverberating through the bedframe. The bandages drop into his lap, torn in the middle and stained with a bloody line – the exposed skin around his nose turns a rosy colour and stings. The sound makes him come back to his senses enough to feel the pain, and he lifts a hand to his face. Link’s already crossing the distance between them, body working faster than brain; leaning against the mattress, wounded leg cramping up beneath him, he grabs Ravio’s wrists and gives them a squeeze. The young man’s eyes zone back into focus and look up at him.

“ _We’re alive,”_ he mouths. He’s convincing both of them. “ _And she’s gone. It’s over.”_

And she is. She’s stepping backwards like wounded prey and losing her footing. She’s falling backwards and out of view, eyes facing the night sky one last time. He wonders if she was insane enough to be spared by fear.

“Zelda’s dead,” Ganondorf affirms. He’s looking them both in the eye, but his voice too holds a tremor of shock. “Maybe that means that my diplomatic mission was a failure, and that our attempt to save her was beyond us. Or maybe it just means that she was beyond coming back. Frankly, it doesn’t matter – we mustn’t blame ourselves for this. If we had somehow held back, people would still be dying right this minute all over Hyrule.”

“ _Your people…”_

“…were targeted as well. I haven’t received an exact count of how many we’ve lost.” He swallows roughly and clears his throat with a bitter laugh. “I don’t know what I’ll find, when I go home. I’m scared even thinking about it, as many people must be. But it’s stopped. The massacre has stopped. We _did_ save lives, up there. Just not hers.”

Ravio nods mutely. He’s gone slack in Link’s grip, who releases his wrists and sits down beside him. Instinctively, they join hands. The contact calms them down immediately with its familiarity.

“So what now ?” he asks.

Ganondorf gives a demure nod. “Discussion. A lot of discussion.” He allows himself a grin. “I’m sure you two didn’t imagine politics to be so wordy, but most of it is talk. Even now, people are already talking, and won’t stop for quite some time. The queen is gone but the kingdom isn’t, and there’s a lot to decide.”

“ _I’m guessing that involves us,”_ Link adds.

“Partly, yes. Putting aside your title, you’re also one of the people who saved the kingdom – that’s how they’re putting it in the newspapers, in any case. It’s obvious they want to thank the three of us.”

Link shakes his head. Ravio mimics him, albeit a little more intensely; he looks up at Ganondorf with an uneasy smile, pointing at Link’s face, and then his own. “You know that would be a tad complicated, right ?”

“I do. Which is why I told them we wouldn’t be attending any ceremonies they may decide to organise. A wise move, wasn’t it ?”

“ _Very wise,”_ Link signs, grinning.

“Thank goodness !” Ravio deflates besides him. “I’m pretty sure I would have scrammed and run all the way back to Lorule.”

“ _What a good idea !”_

“On what legs ?” Ganondorf gives their injuries an amused glance. “You’d have collapsed halfway through the courtyard.”

“ _Maybe so.”_

“Besides, the remaining guards wouldn’t have let you go so easily. You’re not only wanted for your public image, but also for your… let me remember how they put it. Ah ! Expertise.”

“Our _what_?” Ravio repeats.

“I’m equally at loss.”

“Then allow me to explain !”

They look up towards the voice; Ganondorf spins so quickly that the opening door nearly collides with his skull. He steps out of the way just in time to avoid the tiny hurricane that pushes through the doorway and launches itself at the bed. Link barely has a second to prepare for the blunt force of Rine tackling him backwards hard enough to knock him out.

“Link !!!”

Milo knocks on the door, offering an apologetic nod for his lateness. He tries to utter the little girl’s name, but she’s squealing too loud to hear it, arms thrown tightly around Link’s neck – the young man’s face is pale but bright and he squeezes her back the best he can. His eyes might be a little wet.

“Be gentle !” Milo attempts half-heartedly, but these words don’t reach her any more than the first. He closes the door behind him with a nudge. “All that energy. I don’t know how her parents deal with her !”

“I know how to behave !” she complains loudly, sitting up in Link’s lap. Her weight on his leg is uncomfortable but well worth it. “But we were in a crisis situation ! I’m just excited to have found Link !”

“Critical,” Ravio butts in, poking her cheek. Her smile doubles in brightness, and she reaches over to hug him too. “How was Castle Town ?”

_“I don’t think we want to know what she got up to.”_

“It was amazing ! I actually didn’t stay very long, because I had to help Milo and the others find you in the castle. I outran a knight, Link ! I _told_ you I could ! I left them in the dust !”

“ _There you have it !”_

“I’m so happy to see you,” she says, shifting her position to rest her hands on his shoulders. “I saw you fight ! It was incredible ! But I was so worried when I saw you fall, and then that creepy nurse wouldn’t let us in !”

Even though she’s as exuberant as ever, there’s intensity in her voice that ties a knot in Link’s throat. He gives her a smile and strokes the top of her head. “ _I’m fine, tiger. I’m glad you are, too !”_

“I was never in any danger ! They took such good care of me that I was almost disappointed ! No action at all !”

“ _What about the ‘outrunning a knight’ bit, huh ?”_

“Well, that’s the only bit of action I was allowed !”

She tightens her grip on him and leans in. He lets her rest her chin over his shoulder and gives the man at the door a curious look. “ _You’re Milo, then ?”_

The man in question responds with an awkward glance, eyes flickering nervously towards the room’s other inhabitants. Strange. Link repeats his question with careful signing before realising that it’s probably the whole problem. With the fingers on his left hand practically fused together, the words he forms are approximative at best; it’s fine for the others, who know him well enough, but the villager is lost. Feeling a little foolish, he starts again, this time mouthing the sentence as slowly and clearly as he can.

Milo immediately nods. “I am ! It’s an honour to meet you. I would have introduced myself sooner, but you always seemed to be ten steps ahead of us.”

“An honour !” Ravio jokes, whispering in his ear. Link elbows him in the ribs, cautious not to hit his bleeding wound. The Lorulean still acts like he struck it right on.

“ _Thank you for taking care of Rine,”_ he says, bowing his head as far as it goes without throbbing. _“For keeping her safe.”_

“We consider it no more than our duty, especially if it was of help to you. I’m – along with Miya, whom you’ve met – at the head of a rebel group based in Castle Town, you see. We were making plans to counter the queen’s actions in whatever way we could, and when we learned that you reappeared, we rushed to the castle to help in whatever way we could.”

“You’re part of the group who broke through the gates !” Ravio exclaims.

Milo’s eyes shine with pride. “Correct ! To see so many people join us was quite the experience. Our group has become rather well known in the last few hours, so I was sent up here. As, ah, a representative of the people, I guess.”

Three pairs of eyes blink, prompting him on.

“We’ve already organised committees to determine what to do next : one person for each major trade. The queen died without an heir of any kind, not even the most removed of cousins, which leaves the throne empty and opportunities open. We’ve all seen the way she used her absolute power to kill and hush it up in the public eye – who’s to say it won’t happen again ?”

“A clever worry to have,” Ganondorf comments. He’s crossed his arms over his chest and listens attentively, leaning against the door. “And I’m sure all three of us agree with you. But have you considered how fresh this is in everyone’s minds ? The news only came out this morning. The queen died less than twelve hours ago, and until then everyone considered her a goddess on earth !”

Milo acquiesces. “We know. This situation is a mess – the news hasn’t even reached the whole of Hyrule yet. To say most people were uninformed is… an understatement. You should see the churches. I’ve rarely seen them so full. But these groups of people – from vastly different horizons ! – are coming to terms with it, and shock is making them think critically for the first time in a while. People are attached to tradition, of course they are ! The Legend is something they’re confronted to every day. They’re considering new things, but can’t really let go of the old just yet, which is why I was asked to come and talk to you as soon as you woke up. They want to hear it from what’s left of what they know. If there’s one thing every Hyrulean’s been taught, it’s that the Hero can always be trusted to show the way.”

And to this, Link can’t find much to respond.

By his side, Ravio takes his cue – _not my kingdom, not my decision to make !_ – to let go of his hand and scoop up Rine into his arms. The little girl gives Link a quick look, and, sensing that he may need some space, lets the Lorulean sit her down on the other side of the bed and swing his legs over it to settle next to her. She asks him about an injury, and while he makes up something dramatic, Link has more time to think.

Milo must sense his unease, because he takes a step forward and waves a calming hand. “No one’s expecting you to have thought up a solution while you slept – no one’s expecting anything of you, in fact. You’ve already fulfilled your role, in my and many others’ opinions. The people just want to hear your thoughts, or whatever guidance you might have for you. I’m the messenger, nothing more. Anything you want them to know, I can pass on.”

 _“I understand,”_ he mouths, mostly because he feels he should. Shouldn’t they be asking someone more qualified ? His throat feels unbearably dry. In one month, practically everything around him has changed – he’s left the place where he’d spent his whole life to travel across a foreign kingdom. He’s taken a few lives, and almost lost his a few times. He’s apparently saved people. But he’s relied on instincts, improvisation and lots and lots of luck. He doesn’t know. How should he ? Who is he to decide the future of Hyrule ? What would that even look like, to him ?

It’s beyond him. But Milo is still staring, and his throat is still so very dry.

“ _I don’t know,”_ he finds himself saying. Honesty coaxes the words out. “ _I haven’t even seen enough of Hyrule to know how it all works. I just think that no one should get to decide who lives and who dies – power like that isn’t reasonable, is it ? One person making indisputable decisions for everyone else isn’t reasonable either, no matter the… the justification.”_

The peace of the kingdom rests on your shoulders, he remembers her saying. She’d looked so sweet, and so afflicted. You have to accept, for the peace of the kingdom. Clearly, they had diverging visions of peace.

_“In my case, the Legend ripped me away from my life and thrusted me into another one. There’s nothing I could do to stop this from happening. That can’t go on. I don’t know what to tell people, really, other than that. No one can take away people’s free will. That’s all.”_

“And it’s more than enough,” Milo says. The fiery look in his eye assures Link that his wisdom is well received, and in fine hands. “Thank you. I have one more question, for now – and this one goes for the three of you, actually. What are you going to do, now that the fight is over ? Are you looking to keep fighting – politically, I mean ?”

Link and Ravio both shake their heads instantly, although for different reasons. It’s none of Ravio’s business, and as for Link, it’s much like at the very beginning of his adventure. He wants nothing to do with it, and he wants to go home.

Milo doesn’t press either of them; rather, he turns towards Ganondorf, awaiting his answer. The young man nods, and taps his index finger against the wood of the door.

“I came here to maintain a diplomatic link between the capital and the Gerudo lands. That intention hasn’t changed. To give a blunter answer, yes, and if I could join the discussions, I’d be honoured. But I think we should talk about this more in depth later, shouldn’t we ?”

“I agree,” the Hylian replies. He nods at Link. “Thank you for your time. We’ll work hard to create a Hyrulean government worthy of your efforts !”

His zealousness manages to pull a smile out of Link, who nods back. He gives a curt goodbye to everyone – and a sweet wave for Rine, who giggles and waves as well – before disappearing behind the door. There’s a spring in his step and the joy of action in his face, and Link has a feeling he’ll do as good a job as he announced. He has spirit. And most of all, he has convictions. So do thousands of Hyruleans, and they’re finally being heard.

Rine’s climbed onto one of the vacant beds, and is peering into the courtyard through a small window. Her face brightens with a grin, and she presses her fingers against the glass. “Hey, look ! It’s Miya !”

Link shifts on the bed to face her and Ravio, who’s leaning over her shoulder. _“Who’s Miya ?”_

“The nice lady you left me with ! The one who works with Milo ! I have to thank her for taking me along, too, before she runs off !”

“She’s chatting with Hallan, by the look of it,” Ravio puts in.

From the other side of the room, Ganondorf hums. “I’ve heard he’s part of the committees that the rebels are putting together. He’s a trusted public figure, so it’s to their advantage.”

“He doesn’t look too good…”

“That’s true !” Rine says. “He’s not even wearing his armour !”

 _“Has he changed sides ?”_ Link remembers him standing on the side-lines the previous night.

“Decided to face his responsibilities, most likely. He only supported Zelda’s ideals up to a point, like most army men do.” Ganondorf pauses to give them both a glance and straightens his back, uncrossing his arms. “I’d do with a chat with him, actually. I’ll take the little lady so she can talk to her friend, too.”

Link opens his mouth to protest, and closes it again. His eyes have met Ravio’s. He understands his friend’s intention, and curls up on the bed. “ _Alright. Don’t let her run off !”_

“I’ll be good !” Rine tells him, with the deliberate slyness of someone who will not. She plants a sweet kiss on his cheek and runs over to take Ganondorf’s hand. “And I’ll come right back !”

The Gerudo laughs. “If I don’t let go of her hand, things should be fine, right ?”

“ _I wouldn’t be so sure !”_

“See you, Link, Ravio !”

The young girl tugs on Ganondorf’s sleeve and pulls him into the corridor, already talking at a fast enough pace to confuse any stranger. The door swings closed behind them, and silence returns. It’s just the two of them again. Ravio hobbles back onto the bed, bare feet shuffling across the infirmary’s cold tiles. His shallow breathing evens out when he settles down besides Link, flashing him a cheeky smile. The Hylian understands his intentions well enough and uncurls his legs to give him some room – he ignores it completely and sits on top of Link instead, looking absolutely impish. Legs folded on either side of him, he leans in to bump their noses together warmly before withdrawing, tucking his hair out of his face.

“We’re popular today, aren’t we ?”

“ _I hope it’s just temporary,”_ Link sighs, rubbing his eyes with a clumsy hand. “ _I’m too tired to think.”_

“Well, we still have one more thing to discuss !”

The Hylian wiggles into a more comfortable positions, letting his hands settle on Ravio’s knees. He shuts his eyes and scrunches his nose up in protest. “ _We do ?”_

“I’m afraid so, Mr Hero, so don’t fall asleep on me now !”

“ _You mean ‘under’ you ?”_

“Hey !”

Ravio flicks his cheek. It earns him no reaction, so he does it again. The extra strength he puts into it pays off, and Link opens one, glaring eye.

“ _Ouch ! What is it, then ?”_

“Us, obviously,” Ravio says. One of his teeth has hooked onto his lip and bites at it. “Well, technically, me. But I think you probably want in on this discussion, too.”

Link feels his heart sink. It reaches the bottom of his chest and weighs on him there. He shuts his eyes again and mouths : _“What about us ?”_

“Don’t be stupid. You know.”

He does.

“It’s been quite an adventure, right ?” Ravio continues. He’s smiling, but his eyes are focused on the ceiling, flickering with every few words. “We’ve travelled through worlds and done pretty well for ourselves. Jumping into the fire wasn’t such a bad idea after all ! We made it through and defeated that big threat you told me about, sitting on my sofa. So my job over here is done !”

 _“Thank you again,”_ Link puts in, with the distinctive feeling he’s stalling for time. Fingers going cold, he also realises he’s scared he may not get another opportunity to say it. _“I know we went through hell, and you did most of it for my sake. I don’t... I’m not sure how to thank you properly for that.”_

“I don’t need thanks !” he laughs, finally looking down at him. “I did it because I thought it was right. And in return I got the privilege of getting to know you, didn’t I ?”

Link grunts. _“Not many people would call it that.”_

“But I do ! We’re all patched up and covered in scars, but I don’t mind so much. I’m glad you showed up on my doorstep, Mr Hero, and that you marched me halfway across the world. But now –“

He stops mid-sentence, gazing down to find Link gripping both of his wrists again, probably tighter than necessary. The young man is wearing a pitiful frown, lips tugging downwards and forming little creases on either side of his mouth.

 _“Don’t go,”_ he says.

Ravio feels his own eyebrows tilt upwards and bites down a smile. “D’you really think I want to ?”

Link looks deep into his eyes and slowly, very slowly, shakes his head.

“Right. I don’t. We’ve been together for the past month, you know, and I don’t feel like changing that. Only, there are people back home who’re worried sick waitin’ for me to come back. And I’m dying to see them, too.”

Ravio tilts his head – _you understand ?_ – and Link’s slow head shake becomes a nod. He thinks about the joy on Hilda’s face when they’d first stepped into the castle, and the loving intensity with which Lurelei had spoken of him. Of course he understands. He could never leave his own family, so how could Ravio leave his ?

“I can see you go all misty-eyed !” the Lorulean exclaims, and slips his hands into Link’s, careful with his left. “Don’t cry about missing me right away, Mr Hero ! I’m not gone ! And the point I’m trying to get to is that I don’t _have_ to be.”

Link, whose eyes may, perhaps, have been a little wet, blinks the blur out of them. “ _How’s that ?”_

“We. Have. A. Doorway !” Ravio says, putting extra emphasis on each new word. His grin has returned in full power, so bright that it’s contagious. “This isn’t three hundred years ago ! The mirror we walked through to get here goes both ways, and I see absolutely no reason to close it !”

With all his renewed energy, he’s gripping Link’s hands rather tightly – too tightly, in fact, and the wound in the centre of his left one, still unstitched, protests. He yelps and instinctively tries to pull away. Ravio loosens his hold and gives an apologetic smile, running a soothing thumb over the bandages.

“Sorry ! I didn’t realise I was squeezing so hard – but do you see what I mean ?”

Link, who’s both sore and naturally slow, pouts in response, but the gears in his head are creaking into action. They do have a doorway, unlike their previous incarnations. It _is_ open, and remarkably easy to access. The idea is taking shape in his mind; he’d avoided even _thinking_ about Ravio leaving, seeing it as such a permanent notion, but it doesn’t have to be. It doesn’t, he fully realises, have to be, if they keep going back and forward !

“ _You want to use it so we can stay together…”_

“…without abandoning either of our homes !” Ravio finishes.

“ _Well why didn’t you say so at the beginning !!!”_

Grief and worry forgotten, Link shoots up to grab Ravio’s shoulders, giving them an energetic shake. The grin on his face makes the scars on his cheek turn a pale white – he doesn’t seem to notice, because his joy doesn’t falter. It only adds onto Ravio’s amusement, and he lets his partner rock him back and forward.

“It seemed such an obvious solution that I thought you’d have r– Oh, I see. You didn’t think about this at all, did you, Mr Hero ?”

Link flushes. “ _I may have… avoided considering it.”_

“You didn’t give it a single thought !”

“ _Oh, shut up !”_

“No wonder you were so worried ! The look on your face –“

Link clamps a hand over Ravio’s mouth. _“Don’t ruin the moment !”_

The Lorulean shakes his head furiously, and Link allows him to escape his grasp. He splutters for a few seconds before letting his smile return. “So you agree, right ?”

“ _Of course I agree ! How the hell could I not ?”_

“That’s fair, and definitely what I thought you’d say !” His smile turns sheepish, a hand slipping down his neck to scratch at it. “I was just a bit worried about what it involved on your side – you know, staying close to Castle Town and stuff. I know you’re attached to the forest, and…”

Link has to admit he hadn’t considered it – his brain has been too occupied dealing with the relief that’s flooded his system – but he already knows it won’t change a thing. _“The forest isn’t so far. It starts a five minute walk away, y’know, and I bet a lot of villagers’ll be happy to move closer to town. We have to rebuild – we might as well do it somewhere practical ! And I know that Rine will jump with joy at the idea, and convince the others so fast they won’t have the time to change their minds !”_

Ravio’s smile softens. Clearly, he’s relieved as well. It’s a pretty look on him; eyes only half open and bright beneath his eyelids, he looks a tired kind of happy. Seeing how drained they are, he’s entitled to it. Link has closed half of the small distance between them when he comes up with an interrogation of his own.

“ _What about your shop ?”_

“My shop !” Ravio repeats, exhaling slowly. “Well, I’ll have to go and get all of my stuff from there, I guess. Hildie won’t let me live so far away, and it just won’t be very practical, especially considering your loving relationship with boat rides, Mr Hero !”

He can nearly feel his stomach twist at the mere mention of it. The memory is covered up by another that he recalls most clearly. Ravio had cleaned every inch of his little windmill before they’d left. He’d said goodbye to it like a dear friend. He opens his mouth to protest, but Ravio shakes his head.

“I’ll be fine, Link. It was my first home of my own, and now I don’t need to hide anymore, it’s time for a second ! It did a good job these last few years. I’ll be tough leaving it behind. But I’ll be luggin’ all my stuff with me, and I’ll make a new home ! One that’s, you know, closer to you.”

Aware that he’s getting a little too sentimental, he clears his head with a tap of his knuckle. Grinning a business grin, he points a finger into Link’s face and adds : “You’d better come and visit the new shop, by the way ! Don’t think I’ve forgotten that you owe me for those weapons ! The Fire Rod ! My very best !”

“ _Ravio’s Shop,”_ Link sighs dramatically. “ _The highest charges in all of Lorule.”_

“You don’t even know what I charge !” Ravio protests.

“ _I can guess !”_

“Why, you…!”

“…need to calm down,” the nurse cuts in smoothly, and shuts the door behind her. Neither of them have heard her open the door, and even less walk right in – it’s as if she’s just appeared there to scold them, and she sure looks determined to. Link and Ravio look at each other with matching grimaces. “I have no idea how to say this in terms you’ll understand ! You mustn’t move around ! Stop straddling each other and go back to your beds ! The youth are so very indecency, these days.”

“ _Ganondorf said we could,”_ Link tells her, trying his hardest not to betray himself with a huff of laughter. Ravio shakes his head disapprovingly, but he’s smiling too, the bastard. _“We’re sorry.”_

“He’ll hear from me too !” she says, helping him back onto his feet. “I thought I could trust him, too – such a serious-looking fellow. Come on, now, we don’t have all day ! I’ll just have to make your stitches tighter this time, to teach you a lesson in discipline. Hike your shirt up, please !”

Ravio does as he’s told with little regret. They’ve brought it onto themselves, after all.

“Link ! Link !”

Rine runs down the stairs to catch up to him – he pushes a crutch against the closing door to keep it still and allow her to join him in the courtyard. She hugs him with one arm and brandishes a pretty envelope in the other. He sits himself down on the step, resting his crutches down beside him, and plucks it out of her grasp.

“ _What is it ?”_

She stands a few steps down, hands on her hips. “An answer to the letter I sent to mum !”

“ _So ? Is everyone alright ?”_

“Read it for yourself !”

_“Rine, it’ll take too long ! It’ll give me a headache !”_

“It’s good training !”

Giving an exaggerated groan, he plays his last card : _“But I’m still injured…”_

Huffing, she ignores his victorious grin and takes the letter back. “Fine ! She says that everyone in Shellset is healthy and fine, but that there are still some people missing. The eldest, and a few children, I think. The villagers have set up patrols and groups to go looking, but so far, we don’t know if they’re okay…There’s some good news too, though ! She also says that they held a meeting, and that most are in favour of making our new home close to Castle Town ! Isn’t that exciting ?”

“ _It is, tiger. You’ll get to explore to your heart’s content !”_

“And you’ll get to see Ravio, right ?”

Her teasing tone makes him smile. “ _Well, we all have our advantages in the situation !”_

Today, the yard is deserted. The wind blows stray strands of grass across its cobblestones. It carries in its dancing step the faraway heckles of the town meeting – every Hylian within ten miles has come to listen to Milo and Hallan speak. Link’s leg has been given some time to heal enough for him to move around, but he isn’t that interested. And besides, today he needs to be here.

“He’s leaving today, isn’t he ?”

“ _Yeah, but not for very long.”_

The little girl nods. “I know ! He told me he’d be travelling. He also said it was a secret !”

“ _That’s just like him,”_ Link grins. Needlessly spicing things up is a very Ravio thing to do.

“I’m gonna write about him in my book,” she declares, puffing up her little chest with early writer’s pride. “He’ll be one of my protagonists !”

He raises an amused eyebrow, lifting a hand to his chest to fake outrage. _“But what about me ? You’ll write about him but not me ?”_

“Don’t be silly, Link ! You’ll be in the books too. You two have to tell me all about your adventure so I can pour it right into my stories ! I wanna know everything, even the gory bits !”

“ _We’ll give you our full accounts of the events,”_ he says demurely, keeping his opinion of the gory bits to himself. _“You’ll have real life testimony from two adventurers !”_

She squeals in response and jumps on the spot, her little fists thumping through the air. Seeing her so joyful soothes all his aches. He relaxes in his spot, resting his chin on the palm of his hand. She’s a piece of home, dancing down the stairs in her own merry way.

Then she stops and waves, and he turns to find another grinning at him over his shoulder.

Ravio’s hand is inches away from his shoulder. He lets it drop down and grip it, putting a little weight on his partner. He crosses his legs on the step and breathes out, letting the wind blow his hair back. His purple tunic is back, thoroughly washed of all bloodstains. He’s surer on his feet, although his boots dissimulate a thin cast around his ankle, and the smile he gives Link is an easy one.

“I wanted to scare you !” he says, and points at Rine’s cheerful face. “You gave it away !”

She sticks her tongue out at him. He does the same back, sending her into a fit of giggles.

“ _Ahoy !”_ Link greet him. The bandaging around his hand has finally been reduced after days of begging, and he can feel his fingers again at long last. _“Are you ready ?”_

“Absolutely !” He slips a hand onto the hilt of his sword in demonstration. “Not that there was very much to pack.”

“ _Still haven’t found our bags ?”_

“Nope. They probably got buried under all the rubble. Gan looked around for me, but nothing turned up. I’m travelling light !”

“Are you going now ?” Rine asks him.

He turns to give Link a quick glance – the Hylian shrugs. He may as well. The quicker he leaves, the quicker he’ll be back.

“I guess so !” he tells her, and beckons her over. In a rare act of obedience, she comes closer and stands in front of him, frowning lightly. He puts his hands on her shoulder and gives her a big smile. “I’m entrusting Link to you ! You know how reckless he can be, so take care of him for me, OK ?”

“I will !” she promises, beaming right back. “I’ll make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid !”

 _“Yeah, I’ll be good,”_ Link drawls out, a smirk playing at his lips.

“He says that, but as soon as you go he’ll be terrible, I bet.”

“Keep an eye on him, alright ?”

She nods again, and steps forward to wrap her arms around Ravio’s neck. He gives her a tight squeeze and lets her withdraw, wearing a little sad frown.

“Be safe too,” she tells him. “If anything happened to you, I’d be really sad.”

“Don’t you worry. I’m not going anywhere dangerous ! I’ll bring you back a souvenir, if you want !”

Reassured, she nods and takes a step back; changing her mind, she runs forward to hug him again before scampering back into the castle. He watches her go with a surprised smile and turns back to Link, tilting his head.

“That was a fast exit !”

 _“She doesn’t like goodbyes,”_ he says, reaching over for the closest crutch. Ravio hands him the other. _“She did the same, when I left home.”_

“I see.”

 _“I hope she gets used to it soon.”_ He pauses to push on his crutches and lift himself back onto his feet. He’s gotten better at handling these, and hops down the stairs with ease. _“We’ll be going back and forwards a lot.”_

Ravio follows him down and through the courtyard. Empty, it’s imposing in a way that encourages silence and admiration. The three main buildings tower over them, casting tall shadows onto the cobblestones. There are so many windows peering at them that it would be quite impossible to remember which they had climbed, and besides, he’s not keen to. The castle makes him uneasy. Everything is just a little too still.

In the corner of his eye, bouquets and candles are faintly reflected. They’re piled up against the wall, marking a spot that’s been scrubbed so clean that the ground looks washed of all colour. Like the ones before them, they’ll be quickly removed when the town meeting ends, but for now they stand as an unwanted reminder. They walk past them silently and go through the gates.

“I’m kind of glad,” he says, once they evade the castle grounds. Link steps back into the shadows of the wall, and he follows. “I think I can only stay in one place for so long, now.”

“ _That’s alright. There’s still a lot of places to explore,”_ Link hums back. Even dragging his crutches along, he’s still quicker, and Ravio jogs a few feet to keep up with him. “ _We’ll go to the sea, for starters.”_

“That sounds nice.” The memories he has of salted water whipping his face aren’t pleasant. They need to make new ones. “You’ll have to take me to a Hyrulean forest too, Mr Hero. I can’t imagine a peaceful one, but the trees here are so much greener !”

_“Sure. I’ll take you to my old home, too. On horseback, it’s not a long trip.”_

“I haven’t ridden a horse in _years !”_

They walk past the corner of the ramparts and take a left. In the morning light, the passageway’s glow is nearly invisible, lighting up only the vines and leaves around it a gentle blue. Enclosed in the stone, eating away at century old bricks, it sits waiting for them. Their little secret and their greatest saviour.

Link stops and turns his back on it. He and Ravio face each other, and though equally anxious, smile.

_“Kind of quiet, isn’t it ?”_

“I prefer this to any fanfare.”

There’s an uneasy moment of silence; they look at each other with the shyness of two strangers. Link isn’t very good with words, nor with expressing himself, but he desperately wants to say something that counts. He lifts his hand, balancing his crutch against his hip, but Ravio shakes his head and steps forward instead, holding out his arms.

No need, he thinks faintly, before limping right into his arms. This isn’t really goodbye. Ravio wraps his arms around Link’s neck and squeezes him tightly, laughing into his shoulder. In this exact spot, a week ago, they’d done the very same.

“Five days, right ?”

_“Four.”_

“I’m pretty sure we said five, Mr Hero !”

_“Can’t you make it four ?”_

“I guess I can try,” Ravio gives in. The tips of his fingers stroke Link’s back gently, like he’s trying to memorise the feeling of him. “Four days it is.

 _“How about three ?”_ Link tries, but his chest shakes with a hearty laugh. Four days is okay. Five days would have been, too, but they’re greedy. _“Say hello to Hilda and Lurelei for me.”_

“I’ll pass it on until you can say it in person !”

Reluctantly, he withdraws his arms from around him. Link is in a half-mind to grab him and halt his movements, but holds the instinct back. If he follows it, he’ll never be able to let go.

“Cheer up, Mr Hero. The fight’s over ! Now we’re preparing for the beginning of the rest of our lives !”

 _“I know,”_ Link says. _“And there’s lots to do.”_

Ravio nods, and steps towards the glowing wall. “Busy us,” he laughs. “Stay safe, Mr Hero. If you need me, you know where to find me !”

_“It’s only four days !”_

“You mean ‘it’s four whole days’ ! Who knows the kind of trouble you can get yourself into in so many hours ?”

_“Now you’re just self-projecting !”_

“Touché,” Ravio plays along, and winks at him. He nods towards the passageway. “Well, it’s just like water, right ?”

“ _Just like water,”_ Link repeats, and grins.

Ravio gives a little mock salute and puts one foot through the mirror. Discontent with his already ridiculous display, and determined to make Link laugh before he leaves, he makes sure to blow him a kiss before he disappears completely. Link feels his legs take an unconscious step forward and holds himself back.

Ravio’s right, he thinks, and picks up his crutches by the handles. The wood creaks under his weight. He’ll need a long while to wrap his head around everything he’s lived in the past month, but it’s over and done with. The mark on his shoulder doesn’t glow so bright anymore. Maybe it’s content with his work, and agreeing to give him a rest. He hasn’t scratched it in a while. His legs are tired from the short walk, and he’d do with another nap, but there’s much to do and many places to go, still. Laine Anja’s letter said as much. He’ll need to find something to do with the glowing sword stuffed under his bed, too, but in the meantime, he focuses on getting back to his room. He’s no longer on the clock. His time is his again to handle.

After all, it’s the beginning of the rest of his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thus the story ends ! My deepest thanks to all of you for reading this all the way through. Working on this over six months has been one hell of an experience. Thank you for all the feedback and encouragements, and just for following this story's unfolding !
> 
> As I'm not entirely ready to say goodbye to this world and these characters just yet, I'll be working on a series of short stories regarding things that didn't make it into the main plot and involving side characters I wanted to explore more than I ended up doing. For now I'm calling it 'Kriegspiel EXTRAS' ! Keep an eye out for it ! I'll probably give updates on my social media (I'm @aquato on instagram), if you're interested.
> 
> Again, thank you so much for reading Kriegspiel in its whole. It's a story I came to care about a lot. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it !


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